


The Seamstress and The Jedi

by asaucecoveredsomething



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breastfeeding, Creampie, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Lactation Kink, Mandalorian, Planet Mandalore (Star Wars), Post-Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Single Parents, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26714749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asaucecoveredsomething/pseuds/asaucecoveredsomething
Summary: Star Wars AU where Obi-Wan raises Luke.Bryagwen Djarrin is a mother, widow, and a seamstress on the planet Mandalore's moon of Zanbar. A chance meeting in the market leads to her inviting a stranger and his infant nephew into her heart and home. What happens when she experiences kindness in return instead of only ever being kind to others?Smut will ensue in later chapters. Tbh, this gives you the answer to the question.Smut in the following chapters: 2, 3, & 7
Relationships: Ben Kenobi/Original Female Character(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 81





	1. A Mother's Love

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone needs something clarified with one of the kids or with Bryagwen's sewing later on, please let me know. I'm a parent of one, aunt to two, and a proficient quilter/budding seamstress. I may say something that seems obvious to me just because I'm used to the process and/or terms. Don't hesitate to ask!

Bryagwen walked slowly through the market, careful to keep track of the pod her young daughter, Bryshae, rode along behind her in. The market was bustling today. Vendors of all sorts were set up with tables emblazoned with their emblems, products, and other offerings. She sipped on a fresh cup of peppermint tea in an attempt to help rid her of the headache she’d been suffering for nearly a week. Not that it was likely to help. Bryagwen had suffered from headaches since the death of her husband nearly a year prior. The local doctors claimed melancholia to be the root cause, but Bryagwen had suspicions that her foul moods played significantly less of a part than having to care for a child alone. 

With no family or any real friends to lend a hand now and then, Bryagwen was forced to raise Bryshae alone. The child was truly a blessing. She didn’t often cry without reason, and was a happy baby most of the time. Bryagwen was well aware of her luck with Bryshae, but rearing a child was difficult even for the best-tempered of people. Not that Bryagwen was ill-tempered, but she’d fallen into a deep depression after Bryshae’s birth. Having given birth only a day after her husband’s death, she often believed her moods to be a by-product of mourning. 

She opened the pod to check on Bryshae. The girl was sleeping peacefully, but was certain to rouse any moment now. The sounds and smells of the market always woke her. Bryshae had been a very social child from birth, something Bryagwen was thankful for. The infant loved to watch the shoppers and vendors haggle over prices. She often smiled up at them from her pod, seemingly begging for the sweets vendors always offered her. With only a week to go until her birthday, Bryshae already had four teeth. Bryagwen had yet to find the sweet treat the child couldn’t chomp through with them. 

Bryagwen stopped for a moment to ponder over the wares in the nearest stall. She was looking for vegetables for tonight’s (and likely the next few nights’) dinner. A roast had been slowly smoking all morning and broth had been simmering just as long. She simply needed to add some carrots, potatoes, and onions to the both to boil before adding in the roast for the perfect bowl of stew. If she was lucky, she could find the flour Bryshae could eat, and make some sort of bread to enjoy with the meal. She found the flour and vegetables quickly then turned when she heard a child crying. 

Her emerald eyes browsed the crowd. After a quick assessment, she’d realized Bryshae hadn’t been the one to cry. As a mother, she couldn’t help but search for the source of such a sad cry. A little one was crying out for their mother. She knew that sound all too well from countless nights being awoken from her own child. Bryagwen zeroed in on the source, a man roughly the same age as her carrying a small bundle eliciting the sound. 

He appeared lost, not just physically, but his face was devoid of all expression. His eyes, a similar green to her own, were dulled with swollen, red lids. He’d been crying too. She was concerned for them both. His clothing was odd, nothing like she’d seen before, but was patchy with scorch marks marring the otherwise flawless wool. The child was wrapped in a fabric of similar make, and they cried out above the crowd. Bryagwen nudged Bryshae’s pod along closer to the pair. She was hesitant to approach a stranger, let alone a strange man who clearly was running from some sort of sordid past. His frame was strong, but his stance bore intense weakness. She didn’t doubt for a moment that this man would protect the child- likely his own son or daughter- just as fiercely as she would Bryshae. Bryagwen fumbled with the blaster strapped to her hip, hidden beneath the thin cloak attached to her shoulders. She wanted to help this man, but she would take whatever precautions were necessary. 

“Sir,” She spoke softly, barely loud enough for him to hear over the infant’s cries. At this range she could see it was weakness wracking his frame, but exhaustion. He held himself the same way her husband often would after long expeditions when his squadron suffered heavy casualties. His eyes shot up from the child to meet hers, then to determine the threat, however minimal, she posed. He had a child to protect from so many others, from the rest of the galaxy, and he would do so or die trying. “Would you like a hand? Having them out alone can be difficult.” She motioned to Bryshae’s pod to illustrate that she understood the struggle. Bryagwen didn’t want to offend, but wanted to extend help. This man looked defeated, lost, broken even. And his child cried for a mother not present. 

“Please.” A single syllable broke his silence. Bryagwen took the child in her arms, held their tiny head to her chest, and hummed softly the same lullabies Bryshae fell asleep to each night. Bryshae started to rouse in her pod. Her blue eyes opened wide and searched for Bryagwen immediately. Her cheeks were flushed from sleep, her hair mussed and messy. The young girl smiled, sat up, and glanced at the stranger in front of her mother. 

After a few moments the child in Bryagwen’s arms calmed enough to sleep. She laid him in the pod beside Bryshae, and picked up her daughter. Bryshae smiled wide, reaching for her mother’s face and planting a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to her chin. Bryagwen chuckled then kissed Bryshae atop the head. 

“You look like you need a friend, stranger.” Bryagwen spoke to the man again. “There’s a small cafe across the street. If nothing else, you can have a cup of tea or caff, and breathe while the little one sleeps.” The man nodded his assent. Bryagwen made sure the cuff on her wrist was still connected to the pod and hadn’t powered down while she calmed the child, then led the man through the market and across the duracrete to the cafe. She was taking a huge chance simply speaking with this man, but she could tell at her core he was good. Bryagwen wasn’t sure how she always knew the intentions of those around her, her mother had called it intuition, but she often could feel what another being intended to say or do without a word or action occurring. 

They entered the cafe. Bryagwen ordered another tea for herself, some fruit juice for Bryshae, then prompted the man to order whatever he wanted. He thanked her, then ordered spiced tea with a dash of cream. He carried their drinks to a table beneath the windows peering out over the market. Bryagwen filled a bottle with Bryshae’s juice, clipped a strap to the bottle with the opposite end attached to Bryshae’s shirt hem, then handed the bottle to the girl. She happily sucked down a few gulps of her juice before throwing the bottle to the side. Bryagwen picked up the bottle, dangling only inches above the floor thanks to the tether, and handed it back to Bryshae who promptly repeated the process. Bryagwen returned the bottle once more before calling it quits with a roll of her eyes. 

“My name is Bryagwen Djarrin, in case you were wondering.” Bryagwen provided without looking up at the man. Her gaze was fixed on Bryshae on her lap, then switched to the child napping peacefully in the pod. “This is my daughter, Bryshae.”

“O- uhm, Ben Kenobi.” Bryagwen focused on Ben. “And this is my nephew, Luke.” His accent caught her off guard. It was lilting, full of life though the man himself appeared not to be. Ben took a sip of his tea. Bryagwen found their pairing odd for a moment, but thought to herself that the war had brought about many oddly cobbled families and decided not to question it further. 

“What brings you to Zanbar?” She took a sip from her cup. The tea was still steaming hot, but had cooled just enough to drink. “This moon hasn’t exactly been peaceful for quite a while. It’s an odd place for a man and his infant nephew to travel.”

“We are seeking refuge. Our home, our family, everything was destroyed in the Clone Wars. I hadn’t intended to land this close to Mandalore, but our ship’s hyperdrive went out and needs repairing.” A few strands of hair fell onto his face. Without thinking, Bryagwen reached across the table and brushed the hairs away from his eyes. Ben jerked back, his hand flying up to grip her arm in a vice. His eyes flared wild. A cold, calculating glare overtook them. Bryagwen jumped back, retching her arm free. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, each studying the other closely. His reflexes were quick, well trained, but he was distracted. His eyes were heavily lidded, showing his exhaustion. She noted sprigs of grey shooting through his auburn locks, similar to the handful spread throughout her own head of caramel waves. Ben sat straight as a rod- a clear sign of military training. He’d been through some sort of hell. 

“I-” Bryagwen cut off Ben with a shake of her head and a raise of her hand.

“How long did you serve? My husband would react like that at times. Forget for a moment he wasn’t on a battlefield any longer.” She paused. “He died in battle just over a year ago defending Zanbar from Death Watch.”

“My condolences, Ms. Djarrin. I briefly counseled Duchess Satine before returning to Coruscant. The fighting I witnessed here in that time, though brief, was intense.” Ben didn’t have much reason to trust Bryagwen, he barely knew her, but her kindness this far had spoken volumes to him. “To answer your question, it seems like most of my life. I was a general in the Grand Army of the Republic.”

“Was?” She probed, looking for a bit more information on him. 

“I left when the Clones rebelled against the Jedi.” This was news to Bryagwen. News of the war ending had reached Mandalore and all of its moons, but specifics hadn’t. If the clones had turned on the Jedi, that would certainly have put a damper on their efforts. However, between his reflexes and what she was certain he believed would be a throwaway comment, Bryagwen had a feeling Ben had more to him than met the eye. If Ben was running, that meant the Republic was hunting the Jedi, or what remained of them. With exhaustion dripping from him, he had no help, leading her to think the Clone revolt was effective.

“I’d wager a guess that you are one of the few Jedi who escaped them, then?” Ben’s eyes shot up to meet hers immediately. 

“What would give you that impression?” 

“Why else would you leave unless you saw your comrades massacred? You’d already fought this far into the war, and you aren’t old enough for retirement. Also, the clothing. Maul wore something similar during his brief tenure as ruler of Mandalore.” She stopped to take a drink of her tea, all the while observing Ben. His glare hadn’t left her eyes. She didn’t need him to give her a verbal answer to know the truth. She could feel it radiating off him. Bryagwen trusted in this feeling, it had never steered her wrong before. She didn’t break his gaze, instead opting to reach out to his empty hand, take a slight hold, and brush her thumb over his knuckles. The contact would hopefully be calming. 

With each brush, she tried to convey what she hoped was an aura of peace. The Jedi relied on feelings like this, reaching out to one another, that much she knew. She could remember how terrified she was after her husband’s death, how uncertain everything seemed. To have everything you’d ever known ripped out from under you had to dwarf her experiences ten-fold. She wanted Ben to have some semblance of normal, so she dug deep within herself, and attempted to calm him as she had once her husband, what seemed so long ago. 

This aura was a talent she’d always possessed. She could read others with a frightening accuracy when her mind was clear from the melancholic fog that had taken over since Bryshae’s birth, but she could also influence them to a certain extent if so she chose. Bryagwen had always been careful to hide this talent, only allowing those close to her to know why she was able to help others in this manner. But Ben appeared so downtrodden and in need of a friend, she couldn’t help but want to aid him in whatever way she could. 

Ben’s glare turned soft almost instantly. He hadn’t expected to find someone Force-sensitive on Zanbar, let alone able to manipulate it in any way. The Mandalorian’s had wiped out the bloodlines of Force-wielders long ago. Bryagwen clearly had some small amount of training, or had at least been lucky enough to figure out a handful of things throughout her life. For her to be able to break through his defences so quickly spoke volumes to either her strength in the Force or his sheer exhaustion. Which one, he was unsure. 

“I still have some of my husband’s clothing at home. Why don’t you join us for dinner and I can dig his clothing out of storage for you. Those robes are going to give you away wherever you go, Ben.”

Whether by his decision or her influence, Ben was unsure, but he agreed.

\---

Bryagwen halted the speeder beside the small home. The grass was a bit long for her liking, and the walkways a tad untidy, but she didn’t often have time to tend to the yard with Bryshae holding onto her constantly. With no second seat for Luke, they’d opted to strap him into Bryshae’s normal place and Ben held Bryshae while Bryagwen had driven as carefully as possible home from the market. She made a mental note to never do that again.

Ben agreed to watch the children while she rummaged through the attic for her husband’s clothing. He was a larger man than Ben, but the clothes would work well enough. Lucky for Ben, Bryagwen was a fairly accomplished seamstress. She could adjust the clothing if he wanted her to. She’d placed the clothes in a chest gifted to her from the military upon his death and locked them away out of sight soon after. Some of his belongings she’d donated to the local homeless shelter, others she’d made into pillows and quilts for herself or Bryshae to always have a small piece of him nearby. Not that Bryshae would ever know her father, but she could hold a quilt made from his old shirts and pretend he was there when she was old enough to understand as Bryagwen often did when the grief became too much. She opened the chest, pulled out what few clothing items remained, then returned to the living room quickly when she heard a child crying.

Bryshae was happily playing with a toy Loth-cat, squeezing the ear which elicited a meow each time. The cries were from Luke once again. This time they were different, not sad, but frustrated. Bryagwen recognized them as hungry about the same time it struck her that Ben may not have been properly feeding the child. She also realized she had no formula for the infant, but, as luck would have it, she had only recently begun weaning Bryshae and could feed Luke if needed. She stacked the folded clothes neatly on the back of Ben’s chair.

“How have you been feeding him?” She asked easily. 

“Formula from the hospital back on Coruscant. That’s actually why we were in the market, I was looking for more.” Ben handed Luke to Bryagwen when she reached for him. “I was hoping to make it farther before stopping. The ship had other ideas.” Ben explained easily. 

“I don’t have any formula, but Bryshae has been breastfed. I’d gladly feed him, if you’re okay with it, that is. I understand if not. You do barely know me, after all.” Luke screamed, little hands grasping for anything they could hold onto. She started offering a calming presence to the infant as she had Ben earlier, as she had Bryshae hundreds of times throughout her short life so far. Luke calmed from an all-out wail to merely whimpering. The poor boy was hungry. Bryagwen wouldn’t dare deprive this child of the nutrition he so obviously needed. 

Ben glanced at Bryagwen, to Luke in her arms, then to Bryshae, and back to Bryagwen. Bryshae seemed happy and healthy, and Bryagwen had been kind to him so far. With his emotions so clouded he second guessed everything, but Ben had a feeling he could trust her. 

“Go ahead.” Bryagwen quickly unbuttoned her shirt, revealed a breast, and hoped that Luke would latch on quickly. Bryshae had initially had some difficulties doing so, but it worked out in the end. As luck would have it, Luke latched almost immediately, prompting the let down of milk Bryagwen was hoping he would. 

Ben watched in wonder. In Coruscant, almost all women used formula in bottles. He’d heard of women nursing before of course, but, having lived with the Jedi his entire life, had never witnessed the act. It was beautiful. A woman so selflessly giving part of herself to another for no reason other than to nourish them. He was caught off guard again at Bryagwen’s kindness. Pain and loss had odd effects on those throughout the galaxy, he’d seen several of these first hand. Kindness was not often one of these effects. But something in this woman made her want to help them, literally give part of herself to ensure Luke was content. He was astounded to say the least. 

She sang softly to Luke, an old tune her mother had taught her as a child, one of sunshine and love. Luke’s blue eyes grew heavy, slowly closing as he sucked down a final gulp of milk. His latch broke as he succumbed to sleep once again. Bryagwen balanced him in her left arm while recovering herself. She hadn’t seen Ben watching, but had felt his grassy eyes laying on them the entire time. If she were the one entrusting Bryshae to a stranger, she likely would have watched closely as well. Bryagwen didn’t realize how little his watch had to do with trust as it did wonder. In all the galaxy Ben hadn’t been privileged to see feats as this. He’d only ever seen bloodshed and battle. 

Bryagwen signaled for the pod from her bracelet to tuck the sandy-haired child to rest in. She wrapped him tight in the soft blankets Bryshae preferred for naps, then set the pod to a stationary status. Luke could rest in here while Bryshae played beneath him as Bryagwen added the vegetables and other finishing touches to dinner.

“I’m going to go finish up dinner. If you want to change clothes, the bedroom is the first door on the right. There’s a bathroom attached to the bedroom, if you want to take a shower. Feel free to use whatever you want in there. Though, I’ll warn you, you’ll come out smelling like either lavender or mint no matter what you choose.” Ben couldn’t help but laugh. Bryagwen had no way of knowing, but his choice of scent had always been mints. 

“Thank you. I won’t be long.” Ben picked up the softest pair of pants in the stack and a sweatshirt, then retreated to the bathroom and shut the door with a quiet thud. 

Bryagwen set the gate separating the living room from the kitchen, retrieved a bottle full of water and a handful of teething snacks for Bryshae to munch on while dinner was finished. Once satisfied with the tension in the gate, she set to work chopping up the carrots, onions and potatoes, added them to the broth, then started shredding some of the roast. Half of it would be frozen for use another time, but half would go well in the stew. She shredded what seemed to her a sufficient amount, added it to the boiling pot, and reduced the temperature down to a simmer. 

She stood in the alcove between the rooms, watching Luke sleep and Bryshae play with her toys. She would press a button to play music on one then shake her little butt along to the music in her early attempts at dancing. Bryagwen smiled. Her daughter was everything to her. Simple moments such as these were always a firm reminder of what Bryshae meant. Bryshae carried her Loth-cat to Bryagwen, mumbling unintelligible words interrupted by shrieks of laughter. The girl was sunshine personified, from the way her smile radiated warmth to how her kisses could lighten any mood. 

“Hush now, you don’t want to wake up little Luke.” Bryagwen picked up her daughter. Bryshae discarded the Loth-cat in favor of her mother’s arms. The girl looked so much like Bryagwen, she almost wondered whether Bryshae had inherited anything from her father. Bryshae giggled in response, curling up to Bryagwen’s chest. 

“Mama.” She cooed softly, holding onto Bryagwen’s fingers. “Mama, mama, mama, mama.” Bryagwen kissed the top of her head before sitting her down and returning to the stove to stir the stew. She wanted to make some biscuits to go with dinner, so she pulled down a mixing bowl and all the proper ingredients while pre-heating the oven. 

-

As Bryagwen put the final touches on the night’s meal, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but think. About what had happened to him, to what his presence in her home could mean for Bryagwen, or about Bryagwen herself. 

He hadn’t been blessed (or cursed moreso) with the time to fully understand the consequences of the Republic’s fall and Anakin’s betrayal. He’d been shoved in the unfortunate circumstance of caregiver to a baby, something the Jedi had never trained him for. He had been a soldier, not a parent. His every moment had been devoted to caring for Luke as best he could. This shower was the first he’d had since the boy was born, fearing that if he left Luke’s side for a moment someone would kidnap him. But here, in this strange house on a strange moon, Obi-Wan felt content enough to leave Luke in another’s care and care for himself. 

Obi-Wan started with his hair, gently massaging in shampoo. His hair had been singed in places on Mustafar. His scalp was tender from minute, healing burns. The pleasant tingle of mint was refreshing, enlightening to one who had been in pain. Burns took time to heal. He couldn’t imagine the pain Anakin would be in if he’d survived. Obi-Wan had attempted to reach out to Anakin multiple times, but found himself too distraught and distracted to do so. He didn’t know whether his padawan survived their duel. The sight of him, laying in the ash, limbs severed and cauterized from the burn of Obi-Wan’s saber haunted Obi-Wan. Each time he blinked, there was his padawan- the boy he’d raised almost as a son- burning alive by his hand. He’d had no option. Anakin had become a monster, attacked his own wife in an attempt to kill the force-wielding children residing within her, decimated the younglings in the temple. Obi-Wan would never forget the smell of burnt flesh as he entered their quarters hoping beyond hope that somebody had survived. But what chance did children pose against The Chosen One?

Water rained warm over his scalp as he rinsed the suds out, careful to avoid the sensitive patches. Anakin had been meant to bring balance to the Force, and, in a horrifying way, he had. Where the Light had vastly outweighed the Dark, there now stood only two Sith and two Jedi remaining. Balanced. Obi-Wan found this thought macabre, but it was honest. The prophecy had never detailed the Light prevailing, but spoke only of balance. The Force was stained, tinged with blood, but it was perfectly balanced for the first time in Obi-Wan’s life. 

He moved onto the conditioner. With the damage sustained, his locks would certainly appreciate additional hydration. Would Anakin hunt him down? Or leave him be? Obi-Wan had been running across the galaxy to get away from the Sith’s reach, but would they follow? While he appreciated Bryagwen’s hospitality, he was concerned her actions would bring the Republic- well Empire- down upon her. There was no evidence that he had been pursued, but what if he had? Obi-Wan just couldn’t handle the death of another innocent on his hands. 

But then there was Bryagwen herself. He hadn’t missed the blaster she carried. He had a feeling she knew how to use it quite well if push came to shove, and she’d exhibited extreme Force-sensitivity and use. She lived alone with Bryshae, leaving him to believe she was well aware of how to defend themselves if so she chose. This shouldn’t have surprised him, she was Mandalorian afterall. Even Satine, though pacifist, had a working knowledge of combat if needed. 

He lathered a cloth with a bar of soap smelling faintly of mint and something else- maybe eucalyptus. The water pooled at the bottom of the shower was tinged brown. He hadn’t realized how much dirt and grime he had picked up since Mustafar and Luke. Bryagwen was strong, a trait which Obi-Wan had recognized immediately. The loss of a spouse was a horror to overcome, but to have a child so close to the death would destroy most people. He could feel a certain sense of self-depreciation in her aura but that was nothing compared to the determination overlaying everything else. He was certain she was stronger than any other he’d met. She likely had no idea either. 

Bryagwen had no idea of her worth. She was strong, caring, kind, but also beautiful. She was pretty by conventional standards, but it was her soul which spoke out to Obi-Wan. She took in him and Luke, total strangers, all because she heard Luke’s cry. And the way she so selflessly fed Luke, he couldn’t help but watch. It was an act so soft, so natural, and she did so without a second thought. Mandalorians were generally stiff, confrontational, not at all like Bryagwen. 

Once the soap had been rinsed off, Obi-Wan stood under the water enjoying the heated spray. Bryagwen had been honest with him so far. She had managed to read straight through his half truths. She deserved the truth about him, about Luke, about everything. He had to open up to someone. The guilt and grief was killing him. More than once he’d seriously considered the merits of suicide, but ensuring Luke’s safety outweighed his need for peace. 

He shut off the water, opened the shower curtain and picked up the towel sitting beside the shower to dry off. Obi-Wan felt reinvigorated, human again. His hair was finally free from the ash encrusting his scalp. He couldn’t smell Mustafar on him any longer. Only fresh mint and the aroma of stew simmering from the kitchen just a couple rooms over. He slipped on the clothes provided by Bryagwen. They were loose, but fit comfortably enough. The downy fabric was a blessing to his scratched and scraped skin. Obi-Wan grabbed his robes and carried them to the living room where he was greeted to the sight of Bryagwen strapping Bryshae into a high chair for dinner. 

“Where do you want me to put these?” Obi-Wan hesitantly spoke aloud. The sight before him was so soft, so domestic. He didn’t want to pierce the serenity. Bryagwen turned from Bryshae, much to the girl’s chagrin as she screamed and threw herself back against the seat. 

“Evidently not wherever you were thinking of.” Bryagwen smiled for the first time since they’d met. Obi-Wan had thought her beautiful before, but the smile lit up her features and added a dimension to her he hadn’t thought possible. “Let me wash them for you. That way you have something clean that fits you.” She reached for the robes, feeling the fabric to determine the best course of action. They seemed to be made of wool, so she adjusted her machinery appropriately and set the robes to wash. 

Obi-Wan stood with Bryshae, watching the girl fidget in her seat until Bryagwen returned with some carrots and potatoes already cut into miniscule bites for her four teeth to manage. Bryshae’s eyes lit up the moment she saw the bowl carried by her mother. She happily set to eating her meal with no hesitation. 

Bryagwen motioned for Obi-Wan to join her in the kitchen to dish up his food. He cautiously stepped over the gate into the small room. 

“Get whatever you want. There’s plenty to eat, some different things to drink in the fridge. Ask if you need to find something.” She ladled a scoop of stew into a bowl, crushed up a biscuit over the stew, then mixed it together. Obi-Wan was hesitant. He’d told her half-truths this far. It felt wrong to accept anything more without telling her everything. “Or don’t. It’s up to you.” She said when she noticed he hadn’t moved. 

“I will. It’s just- I haven’t been completely honest with you.” He stumbled over each word, finding the confession difficult to start. 

“Well then, be honest over a meal. A good, hot bowl of stew is said to heal the soul.” She smiled again, this time at him directly instead of the children. Obi-Wan froze. Something stirred deep within him at her smile. He couldn’t quite figure out what the stirring was, but something shifted in that simple gesture. 

\---

Several hours later, Bryagwen sat up with Ben, well Obi-Wan, in the living room, listening to soft music as he recanted his tale. She knew the rest of the galaxy had been at war, but she had been largely spared its influence due to Mandalore’s neutrality. It was only when war was brought to Zanbar that she had suffered the consequences of a galaxy at odds with itself. As a Jedi, Obi-Wan had been right in the thick of things. He’d pulled the strings for countless battles, engaged in combat on multiple fronts, but had somehow managed to survive it all. 

She was amazed by him. Her husband had spoken of combat in passing, but would never divulge much detail. He never wanted her to worry more than she already did. Obi-Wan answered her every question as thoroughly as possible. With a web of lies already woven the last thing he wanted to do was give her reason to distrust him. 

They started the evening talking over dinner. The pair took turns tending to the children as each spoke their peace. She learned he was native to Coruscant, taken to the temple at a young age, and trained as a Jedi ever since. He had no memories of family outside of the order aside from the family he’d managed to cobble together with his master, padawan, and grand-padawan. The Jedi were meant to be peacekeepers, but their mission had changed so drastically when the Clone Wars began. Bryagwen learned of the Jedi. She’d heard stories of them growing up but they were largely tales meant to scare Mandalorian children into behaving. They’d been stories from wartimes past where she suspected propaganda played a large part of their tale. 

Now the pair sat side by side, each with a child sleeping on their chests. Bryagwen leaned on Obi-Wan, her head resting on his shoulder. Bryshae had fallen asleep not long ago in her mother's arms, head resting against her bosom. 

“We should get these two to bed.” Bryagwen spoke, interrupting a moment of silence where both adults had been watching the child in the other’s arms with wonder. “Lay Luke down in the pod, if you want. He’s too little to get out of it yet.” Bryagwen commented while standing slowly as not to wake Bryshae. 

“Where will Shae sleep then?” Obi-Wan questioned. He hadn’t seen a crib when he’d walked through her room to get a shower earlier.

“In her room. Maybe. Most of the time she winds up in bed with me.” She made her way through the small house, passing her bedroom door and going to the next. Bryshae didn’t make a peep as she was laid down in her crib for the night. 

When Bryagwen returned to the living room she found Obi-Wan and Luke holding one another as if their lives depended on it asleep on the sofa. She slowly worked the child out of his uncle’s arms to place him in the pod. As sweet as the sight was, she couldn’t risk Obi-Wan losing his grip on Luke through the night and Luke accidentally rolling off of the couch. She lightly shook Obi-Wan’s shoulder to wake him. 

“The bed is a lot more comfortable and it’s big enough for two.” Obi-Wan didn’t need any more convincing. Without a word he followed her to her room and promptly collapsed on the bed, truly resting for the first time in weeks.


	2. Recompense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Bryagwen fall prey to their emotions in a tryst neither had anticipated, discovering quirks and unearthing history about the other along the way. Bryagwen suggests letting the man and his nephew stay instead of running for the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning ahead for smut! 
> 
> Obi-Wan discovers he has a lactation kink (not fully explored here but definitely discussed) and lets a mildly dominant side take control, Bryagwen is a bit of a brat, some good-ole vaginal sex, a bit of cockwarming (if you squint), and everyone's favorite type of pie (the cream one) with a hell of a happy ending for them both. 
> 
> This chapter will be important for other chapters moving ahead due to dialogue largely towards the end.
> 
> Let me know what y'all think!

The night was silent except for the occasional snore or sigh from one of the sleeping bodies. Bryshae tossed and turned in her crib until content with the exact position of her limbs in contrast to the blankets and stuffed animals surrounding her. Luke fought his swaddle minimally on occasion but never roused. Bryagwen slept peacefully for the first time in months. She’d missed the heat of another body next to hers at night. She’d missed the intimacy of simply sleeping next to someone. To rest beside another implied implicit trust. To let your guard down so entirely alluded to camaraderie or even hinted towards romance. 

Camaraderie would best fit their current relationship. Bryagwen had suffered the loss of her parents at a young age, then the loss of her husband, in-laws, and a young nephew named Din during Death Watch’s invasion of Zanbar much as Obi-Wan had endured losing those he loved. She’d chosen to live a solitary life despite social norms dictating she remarry soon after. She had Bryshae and her business. She’d made up her mind long ago that she didn’t need to remarry. She didn’t want to traverse the heartache of losing a spouse again. Obi-Wan chose solitude for a number of reasons, the foremost of which involved isolation meaning he wouldn’t have to lose those he loved. He understood Bryagwen in a way her fellow Mandalorians did not. Perhaps kindred spirits better described them.

Bryagwen was awoken to a moan, deep, course, befitting of the man she’d been dreaming of. She leaned up to switch on the bedside lamp. Obi-Wan’s hair fell over his eyes. He held a pillow in a vice-like grip to his chest. The evidence of a lifetime of combat training suddenly very evident as his arms strained against the pillow. He mumbled something unintelligible, gripped the pillow tighter, and jerked back, laying flat against the sheets. She recognized the pained expression, the grip for dear life. Wherever Obi-Wan was internally was somewhere he had suffered great tragedy. 

She started by brushing the hair away from his eyes. Obi-Wan tensed again at her touch but quickly relaxed. Her fingers wound their way through his auburn waves taking care to avoid the healing burns. Her free hand found his. She repeated her actions from the cafe that afternoon. He was in pain, that much was obvious. Bryagwen wanted to relieve that pain. 

After a few minutes of her mumbling phrases like “You’re here with me,” and “You’re safe,” while continuing her actions, Obi-Wan finally calmed. His mossy eyes flitted open, blinking rapidly to adjust to the dim lighting. They landed on hers immediately. Bryagwen glanced to his lips, swollen and red from being bitten in his sleep. A flush set over her cheeks, a change not missed by Obi-Wan. She hesitated for a moment unsure of what actions to take next. Obi-Wan sat up, entwined their hands, and let his mossy irises meet her emerald ones. 

They sat like this for some time, just peering into the others’ eyes and feeling for the other to break contact. Inside her home, Obi-Wan had been overwhelmed by her specific signature in the Force from the moment they’d arrived the day before. Now, though, the air was heavy with her scent, the brush of her thumb over his was amplified, setting his skin ablaze. Tension sat heavily on his shoulders. A weight pressured him to move closer, to embrace her, to rake his fingers through her dark waves and leave her lips as swollen as his. He wondered if she could feel this too. Or if she happened to be causing this push accidentally. 

Bryagwen hadn’t intended for emotions to get so out of check. With each moment they grasped one another, her mind wandered further, her presence became more deafening. She wanted to taste his lips, test how they felt against her own and learn how his beard scratched at her palms as she brought those lips to hers. She wanted to know what he felt like beneath her, writhing in time with her and buried to the hilt, thrusts matching her strokes until his cum was painting her from the inside out. She wanted his name falling from her lips as she rode out a high she hadn’t been able to obtain on her own despite her attempts to do so. Bryagwen wanted him. The mere thought of him had her soaked through. She didn’t want him, she needed him. 

“D-do you sense it too?” Obi-Wan’s voice was soft, tender, far more sincere in his hesitation that she had been imagining so far. Bryagwen broke free of his hands. When she reached for his face this time she did so slowly. She brushed a stray hair free from his eyes first, never breaking eye contact. Her body seemed to act on its own accord. Taking care to keep his attention on her as she straddled his thighs, she gripped his jaw in one hand. Her free hand found his. She led him to her breast, still concealed by her nightshirt. Obi-Wan palmed her breast, pausing to roll his fingertips over her nipple. Under his fleeting touch, Bryagwen’s nipple grew hard, peaking beneath her shirt. She was sore from feeding Bryshae and Luke, but this didn’t seem to phase her as she hastily removed her shirt. 

Obi-Wan removed his shirt too, discarding the unnecessary fabric beside the bed with hers. She had assumed he was toned and trim, at the very least. Bryagwen hadn’t expected Obi-Wan to be nearly as muscular as he was. While still lean, his chest and arms were well defined. 

“What are these scars from?” Her voice was barely above a whisper as her fingers trailed along the scars in question, one across his shoulder the other peeked out from beneath his pants, stretching across his thigh. They were old, that much she could tell. Bryagwen had seen her fair share of battle wounds. These looked as if they’d been cauterized. She wasn’t sure how the Jedi handled wounds, but the common practice on Zanbar was only to cauterize if no other option was available because the process required the patient to be awake. The process was incredibly painful. 

“A battle with a particularly powerful Sith lord named Dooku.” That explained the cauterization, then. They had been saber wounds. “I started wearing armor after that one.” She kissed the scar breaching the otherwise flawless skin of his shoulder, continuing down his chest. 

“You must have been some swordsman to go into battle unarmored.” She found a tender spot along his collarbone and sucked hard, biting lightly into the pink flesh. Obi-Wan moaned, his grip on her breast tightened, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Bryagwen. 

“The Jedi viewed my actions as arrogance.” Bryagwen felt his erection growing stronger beneath her, rubbing at her clothed core as if to tease her with every movement she made. She shifted slightly. Obi-Wan shuddered as she slid over him. He could feel the heat emanating from her core through their clothes. “I’ve found armor to be restricting. It weighs you down and hinders the ability to move freely.” Kind of like this insipid clothing, Bryagwen thought. 

“I know the feeling.” She mumbled to him. This brought a peal of laughter to Obi-Wan’s lips. His lips found their way to her bare breasts, trailing kisses between them then focusing outward to focus on one of her pert nipples. “Wait,” she stopped him, “Unless you want breastmilk on you, I’d stop there. They’re already leaking.” Obi-Wan hadn’t stopped to consider this implication. His gaze caught hers as he debated the merits of continuing. 

“What would you have me do?” He decided that simply asking her was the best route. As it was, milk lightly coated his fingers. Obi-Wan withdrew a hand to examine the pearlescent droplets sticking to his fingers. She watched curiously as he licked the droplets clean off his fingers. “It’s so sweet.” Surprise laced his voice. “And warm,” he added as an afterthought, “I wasn’t expecting that.” It was Bryagwen’s turn to laugh. 

“It makes for an excellent cream in a good cup of caff or tea.” Obi-Wan shot her a look as if to ask whether or not she was serious. “I forgot to buy milk once.” She shrugged it off thinking her response explanation enough. Bryagwen pressed a rushed kiss to his lips. She wanted so much more than what they had done so far. That want, that need was beginning to burrow deep at her core and absolutely ache. 

“How did you manage that? Unless you happened to have a glass of breastmilk handy for tea purposes, that is.” Obi-Wan was returning to her breast, massaging both nipples softly between his fingers. Bryagwen covered his hands with her own, manipulating until they were in just the right spot. 

“A bit like this.” She shot him a mischievous smirk before squeezing down on the supple flesh. She had only leaked so far, but now a stream erupted from each breast; milk sprayed his lips and splashed back on her skin only a couple inches away. 

“Oh, that was devious.” He commented, rolling her off of his thighs. Bryagwen whined at the loss of contact. Obi-Wan pinned her to the mattress, one hand on either side of her and her hips beneath his. “I really ought to punish you somehow. What would you recommend, Bryagwen? Hmm?” One of his hands trailed down her neck and torso. His fingers fidgeted with the waistband of her shorts before deciding to add them, her underwear, and his own to the pile of clothing on the floor. “Should I sink my fingers deep in your soaking cunt, bring you to the precipice of orgasm only to deny you the release you so desired? Should I keep you pinned to this bed, my cock buried deeper than my fingers could possibly hope to reach while I suck down every last drop of your exquisite milk? Or should I just leave you to deal with this,” Obi-Wan palmed her soaked core, a single finger falling between her folds, “yourself? Well, darling, I’m waiting.” The gleam over his eyes was absolutely predatory. He held her with such ease, yet Bryagwen could feel the muscles tensed between her legs where he straddled her hips.

“Kriff, I want the second option, but Luke or Shae will wake up at some point hungry. Give me a couple days to get a supply built up for them and we can revisit that option. Until then, please just fuck me into this mattress. Make me see the stars you’ve traveled, Obi. Leave me soaked and sore with your cum dripping from my core.” 

Maybe she should have told him it had been a while since she’d had sex last. Her words left him breathing heavy, bite marks formed on his lips. Obi-Wan coated his cock in her fluids then sheathed himself inside her in one, fluid motion. Bryagwen let out a moan bordering on a cry. He wasn’t a small man by any stretch of the imagination, but not overly large either. What he lacked (somewhat) in length, he made up for in girth. Obi-Wan didn’t move for a minute. He wiped a tear free from her cheek, held her in a kiss and traced a hand across her chest to draw delicate circles around her weeping nipples. 

Bryagwen hadn’t felt so full in her life. Her husband was the only man she had to compare Obi-Wan to, and he hadn’t been anything other than average in the bedroom. Perhaps it was a year of celibacy on her part making her overly sensitive, perhaps time had dulled the memories of her husband and what it felt like to be impaled by a man, perhaps it was something else entirely, but Bryagwen could swear she had never felt such a pleasant burn as Obi-Wan let her delicate muscles adjust to his intrusion. She’d shed a tear not in pain, but contentment. His fingers brushed over a nipple causing a tremble to overtake her body. Bryagwen arched up, an attempt to deepen the angle. 

Obi-Wan took her movement as a hint that she was ready for more. It had been a lifetime since he’d felt a woman arch beneath him, felt one keen to his touch. Stars, was this what he had given up so long ago? Bryagwen moaned softly with each thrust, taking in a deep breath every time the head of his cock struck against her cervix, causing a bit of pain in just the right way equal pleasure. His pace was slow, punishment for the little stunt she’d pulled. He knew exactly what she wanted, and a slow, soft romp was far from it. 

She groaned out in frustration. She could feel a release building, but stalling. He needed to move more. Bryagwen attempted to arch up onto him again. Obi-Wan shoved her hips down, pulled out almost completely, then entered her again at a punishing speed. 

“Again. Do that again.” She pleaded. Her hands reached up to her nipples. She needed just that little bit of extra stimulation. She needed that harsh ramming. She needed something to keep from losing the high she was chasing. “Please,” her voice broke, begging as her nipples leaked onto her fingers, “Kriff, please, Obi-Wan. Fuck me as hard as you can, play with me, suck my tits, just do something. Stars, I’m so close, please, Obi!” She implored, her voice cracking each time he thrust back into her. 

Obi-Wan did exactly as requested. He quickened the pace, slamming into her each time. He timed his thrusts to her ministrations on her nipples, taking care to not overstimulate them though she’d just begged him to suck them. However distant, the thought of Luke or Bryshae going without rattled around the back of his mind, and he wouldn’t allow himself to indulge as he so desperately wanted. 

Bryagwen closed her eyes and gripped her breasts hard. She was so close. Obi-Wan’s thrusts were starting to become a bit less rhythmic, a sure sign his high was nearing as well. After what seemed like an eternity, the wall between her and an orgasm broke. Bryagwen cried out far louder than intended, his name rolling off her lips like a prayer as black overtook her vision color swirled across the black. 

His release was following suit. Obi-Wan kept up the pace. Just once, twice more he thrusted into her. 

“Where?” His question was brief. Her response even more so. He wanted confirmation before cumming inside her, though she had been the one to suggest it once already.

“In.” It was Obi-Wan’s turn for the dam to burst. He cried out something unintelligible as he came, holding onto her hips for dear life, his face buried between her breasts inhaling the sweet scent that he was quickly learning was uniquely Bryagwen. He stayed like this for some time, her hands brushing lazily at his hair until she was certain he’d fallen asleep. A satisfied smile settled on her face. Bryagwen felt sleep pulling at the edges of her vision, obscuring her senses until she succumbed with Obi-Wan still rooted firmly in her and on her. 

\---

Cries roused Bryagwen from sleep roughly an hour later. Luke; she recognized the cry of hunger from the young boy. 

“Obi?” She shook him slightly, trying to wake the man who was blissfully unaware of everything around him. “Obi-Wan.” When he still didn’t rouse, she settled for shoving him off of her rather unceremoniously. This finally woke him. Bryagwen summoned Luke’s pod from her bracelet. She set to work first changing his diaper then situating him for a midnight snack. 

Obi-Wan watched in awe once again. Such a simple act had absolutely enraptured him. 

“You two can stay as long as you need.” Bryagwen broke the silence around them, not looking up from Luke in her arms. “I know you need to hide for his safety, but you’re welcome to stay, if you want.” Obi-Wan slid across the bed until his thigh touched hers. He snaked an arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head softly. 

“I don’t want you or Bryshae to take on that target, but the thought is appreciated, Bryagwen. More than you realize.” His head rested atop hers. 

“They’ll be looking for you and him alone, not a family.” A thought had suddenly occurred to her. Bryagwen looked up from Luke, meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes. “It’s fairly common- expected, actually- for women to remarry and have more children soon after their husband’s deaths here. It’s also commonplace for these women to hide away during all of this. Pregnancy and grieving are perceived as weakness since they cloud the mind and hinder the body.” Bryagwen paused here, hoping Obi-Wan would pick up on her train of thought. 

“What would you tell your customers? Those who’ve seen you recently?” He picked up immediately.

“That’s the beauty of this. I barely showed with Shae, I only gained her weight throughout the pregnancy. Those who know me know that too. Nobody would suspect a thing.” 

“And what of the strange man who just showed up?”

“A friend of my husband’s who came to check up on me after his death, and unfortunately had to return to the war front immediately. When the war ended, you came home as soon as possible to meet your son.” She could see Obi-Wan toying with this idea in his head as Luke slowly drifted off to sleep, content with his belly full. 

“Would we need any sort of documentation, to make it appear official?” Hope glinted across his eyes. Bryagwen tensed. If he agreed to this, her home would be full, she would be raising another newborn, but she would be perfectly fine with this. 

“Marriages are something of a construct here. The courts don’t get involved unless the couple wants them to. Vows can be something as simple as stating ‘we are married’ in the privacy of our own home without redtape or witnesses.”

Obi-Wan heavily considered this possibility. While a bit convoluted, her plan could work. It would lend credibility to his whereabouts should the Sith start searching, and ultimately protect Luke. He would have someone to share the gargantuan task of child rearing with, someone to lighten the load. He balanced the merits, good and bad, of taking her up on this offer.

“If you ever felt a reason to leave, you’d obviously be more than welcome to. Until that time should come, this place could be your home. Luke could live a normal life, he could-” Obi-Wan cut her off with a kiss. Soft, tender lips enveloped her own. 

“We will stay on the condition that as much as you are to act as mother to Luke, I will act as father to Bryshae. You shouldn’t have to bear the weight of raising them alone. No good marriage would survive such a feat. I’d also like to train you to use the Force. You’ve exhibited extreme sensitivity and even used it to manipulate me to a small extent. If we hone your natural abilities, it would add an additional layer of protection to yourself and the children.” These were terms she could agree with immediately. 

“Then, Obi-Wan, we are married.” He pressed his forehead to hers, held her jaw in his strong hands and repeated the words before sealing their union with a kiss. Once the kiss broke some indeterminate amount of time later, Bryagwen placed Luke back in the pod for the remainder of the night before snuggling up to Obi-Wan. The pair looked a mess of limbs and flesh entangled together, her head on his chest to listen to his heart and his hands clinging to her ribs feeling each breath she drew. 

Bryagwen fell asleep quickly. His steady heart beat a lullaby. Obi-Wan remained awake until light began to peer in through the windows. He was in sheer disbelief of what he’d done. He, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi General, the Great Negotiator, the only person level-headed enough in the entire galaxy to handle not only Anakin Skywalker but also Ahsoka Tano, had lost himself in a torrent of emotions. He’d lost everything he’d ever stood for, everything he’d ever believed. Yet here, with this strange woman in his arms, surrounded on all fronts by her sheets, her scents, her books, her all-encompassing presence, he felt at peace. Obi-Wan marveled at Bryagwen until his eyes could no longer tolerate remaining awake before drifting off to a sleep filled with dreams of their future together.


	3. Sewing Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life discussions are best had over a cup of caff or tea. Sewing lessons are best taught when the student isn't Obi-Wan Kenobi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW-ish. They get interrupted before any actual sex occurs, but I figured I'd throw a warning up for anyone who is put off by that sort of thing. 
> 
> Warning for: anxiety, breast play, lactation kink, one joke about suicide

Bryshae was a morning person. She always woke up a ball of pure energy ready to take on the day. Her excitement was often found much to Bryagwen’s chagrin. There never seemed to be enough hours in the day to get everything done, take care of Bryshae, take care of herself, and rest an adequate amount. Bryshae’s days were far simpler, consisting only of meals, rest and playtime. 

Morning came too quickly for Bryagwen, thoroughly exhausted from her romp the night before. She knew better than anyone that children woke by their schedules, with zero regard for the schedules of those around them, so she rose with Bryshae, threw on a thin dress, and started their morning routine.

First thing was changing and dressing Bryshae for the day. Bryshae kicked and squealed all the while her mother tiredly attempted to attach a clean diaper to the child, who was bent on crawling away. After the third attempt (and several groans), Bryagwen was finally victorious. Bryshae waddled around her room, knocking over her laundry hamper as her Bryagwen searched for weather appropriate clothing. The small girl ambled to her mom, giggling wildly as she tried to stretch a discarded sleeper from several nights prior over her head. 

“What’s my girl think she’s up to?” Bryagwen crooned to her daughter, scooping her into her arms and sitting her back in her crib to box her in while she was dressed. Bryshae jumped up, grabbed onto the side of the crib, and began bouncing wildly, smiling and squealing as she did, her blue eyes shining bright. Bryagwen wrestled Bryshae into her clothes for the day. “Time for breakfast, miss.” She narrated to Bryshae while carrying her to the living room to be released as she cooked. 

Breakfast was simple, as it usually was. Scrambled eggs and fried potatoes for Bryshae, a pot of caff for Bryagwen, and some fruit for each of them. Bryagwen wasn’t sure what Obi-Wan would eat for breakfast, if he would even eat, and decided she could cook for him later. Or, if he possessed the skills, she supposed he could make something himself. Her caff beeped signaling it was finished brewing. She grabbed her favorite mug, an old chipped thing she’d found at a rummage sale, filled it nearly to the brim and added a dollop of sweet cream from the chiller. She set it on the counter to cool. 

She gazed out the large window behind her sink. The trees had begun to shed their leaves. A cornucopia of color peppered her small yard. Hues of honey, fire, amber, cinnamon, and auburn were scattered from the house to the workshop in the yard. The nearest foliage quite nearly matched the soft tones of Obi-Wan’s hair, reminding her of the man sleeping down the hall. He’d been so soft spoken through the day and evening as he’d recanted his story, the very picture of a gentleman. The ache in her thighs and remnants of their release dried to her folds were evidence of a far different man. She wanted to know everything about him from the simple things like how he took his caff in the mornings (if he even liked caff) to more complex facets like his history before the fall of the Republic. All she truly knew was he’d escaped with the child of his ex-Padawan, and that he carried the weight of a fallen empire on his shoulders. 

“Good morning!” He cheerfully interrupted her thoughts. Obi-Wan wore a smile as he carried a sleep-addled Luke into the kitchen. His little arms reached out from their swaddle, stretching to greet the day. Bryagwen missed these days with Bryshae. She missed the tender stretches that overtook the small girl’s entire body. To be honest, she was excited by the idea of raising Luke, of having those precious moments once again. “Sleep well?” He asked with a smile. 

Bryagwen grinned. He knew damn well how she’d slept. For the first time in a year, she’d truly rested, legs entwined with his, her heart beating next to his. She hadn’t wanted the moment to end. Bryshae had had other plans for her mother in that minute. 

“Great, just not long enough.” She stifled a yawn before motioning towards the pot of caff. “Caff?” She grumbled out just loud enough for him to hear. 

“Kriff, yes.” She pulled another mug from the cabinet above the counter, this one another favorite; short, fat, and printed with the signet of one of Mandalore’s higher ranked clans. A souvenir from Bryagwen’s last visit to Mandalore several years prior. Obi-Wan filled his mug to the brim, then took a deep gulp, not bothering to let the beverage cool. 

“Do all military men drink their caff black and hotter than the suns of Tatooine?” Obi-Wan pondered her question for a second. 

“Most of us, I suppose. My Captain, Cody, certainly did, though I do believe he would have injected caff directly to his veins had he been permitted to. I’ve always had more of a taste for tea, but when I drink caff, this is the only way I’ve ever liked to.” He took another drink, this one slower, savoring how each note of acid and berries played across his tongue. Obi-Wan leaned against the counter, and sat his mug beside hers. His free hand reached out for Bryagwen. She was hesitant to take it, but did, inserting herself at his side.

“We should probably talk about last night.” She broke the silence after a moment or two. Standing there with her head relaxed on his shoulder, hand in hand was comforting. It all spoke of some greater love than camaraderie. To an outside observer, they looked as a happily joined couple may; a mother, father, and son enjoying their morning. “About everything that transpired and what the future holds.” Bryshae called out from the living room for her mother, reminding Bryagwen of the girl’s breakfast cooling in the chiller. 

“Later?” Obi-Wan suggested. He broke the embrace and retrieved the plate, handing it to Bryagwen. She promptly took the plate to Bryshae, suctioned it to her small, corner table where Bryshae immediately grabbed a handful of potatoes and dropped them onto the carpet. 

“I’ll be busy in the shop all day.” Bryagwen stepped over the gate separating the rooms. “I had a couple projects to finish for customers yesterday that didn’t get finished.” She explained easily. “You two sort of took precedence.” 

“Is there anything I can help with?” He offered without a second though. 

“If you can tackle the kids, I could get everything done much quicker.” She picked up her mug and took a sip. “Though, I would prefer for everyone to come out to the shop. I don’t really know you well enough to trust you with Bryshae alone yet.” She took another drink, this one much deeper than the last. “No offense.”

“None taken. We barely know one another.” Obi-Wan gulped down the rest of his caff then refilled his mug. Bryagwen discarded her empty mug in the sink. 

“Let me go ahead and feed Luke so we can get started.” Obi-Wan handed over the infant without hesitation. Bryagwen sat down at the table to feed the boy, and got their morning rolling.

\---

With Obi-Wan keeping track of Bryshae and Luke, Bryagwen was able to breeze through her work quickly. The quilt top she’d meant to finish yesterday for a client? Not only had the top been completed, but the entire quilt managed to be put together. Alterations to another client’s wedding dress? Finished, flawlessly. She stood up from the sewing machine ready to take a break, stretch her legs and crack her back. Soft songs played from the speaker in the corner. Obi-Wan was stretched out on the floor of Bryshae’s play area while she slept peacefully in her playpen and Luke crashed out in the pod. They’d worn him out, poor thing. 

The breeze rustled the curtains through the open windows, blowing their fabric around the room. Bryagwen loved these days. She could smell rain moving in on the distant clouds, feel the cool air of autumn brush over her skin and blow her hair about her face. The dulcet tones of a piano paired with the occasional bird call from outside created the perfect atmosphere. She made her way to the small kitchenette in her workshop. An afternoon tea was calling her name. She rummaged through the canisters searching for the perfect black tea blended with lavender and rose, added a pinch of maple sugar to her mug, then set the kettle to boil. 

She hummed softly along with the music, swaying from one foot to the next, lost in a world of thought while the water began to heat. Having someone to help her with Bryshae had been, well, amazing. She’d gotten so much done. Normally it would have taken a week or more to complete either one of the projects, let alone both. She looked to the cabinet beside her kitchenette. It was completely full of projects for various clients, all with due dates fast approaching. Due dates that, with Obi-Wan’s help, she would definitely be able to meet. Bryagwen opened the cabinet to find the next project, another quilt, this one far less complex than the last. 

Just as the kettle began to sing, Obi-Wan pulled it from the burner. Bryagwen closed the cabinet, secured the latch Bryshae-proofing its contents, and turned to thank him. He poured water into her mug letting the floral aromas immediately begin to fill the room. Obi-Wan found the canister she’d used previously and helped himself to a mug as well. 

“How do you do this every day?” He said after a few moments of silence. Bryagwen shrugged.

“When you don’t have an option, you just do it. She’s at an age where she’s learning so rapidly, she’s curious about everything, and she’s a handful because of that. You’ll get used to it eventually. She’ll grow out of this phase about the same time Luke hits it.”

“Is there a way to keep Luke from hitting this phase? His father was fairly high-strung. I can only handle one diva in the house at a time, and Bryshae currently holds the title.” Bryagwen snorted softly. 

“Maybe he’ll be more like his mother.” She stated with a smile. 

“I’m genuinely unsure if that would be any better. His mother was a former queen and current senator, after all.” Obi-Wan looked down to the stack of fabrics in her arms. 

“And you thought you could raise the child of your Padawan and a queen on your own?” She chided, playfully smacking his shoulder. 

“I may have thought wrong.” A shy grin crossed his face. “Very, very wrong. Until today, my experience with children was limited to teaching the occasional youngling at the temple and Luke. The younglings didn’t bite me then run away giggling. Or cry when I took a used diaper from them. Not that ever occurred, but I’m certain they wouldn’t have thrown themselves on the floor and smacked their heads off the hardwood.” He paused. Obi-Wan took Bryagwen’s hand in his own and turned to face her. 

“What did you want to talk about earlier?” Obi-Wan questioned hesitantly.

Bryagwen was suddenly a torrent of emotions. She hadn’t expected him to question her so directly. She’d used concentration on her sewing as reason to not discuss matters. In truth, she wasn’t regretful of anything that had occured. She was conflicted. While the only person she had to compare Obi-Wan to was her husband, he’d certainly been the best sex she’d had in her life. The most attentive, caring, the most receptive to who she was. The sex wasn’t what had her feeling conflict. It was her proposal of marriage. She barely knew him, this man who was now her husband. Had she offered her hand out of a rush of emotion? She’d been touch starved for a year. His embrace was so foreign, yet so comforting. She only wanted more. Had he only accepted out of a sense of need? Or out of feeling guilty for what had transpired prior?

“Do you regret last night? The sex? The proposal? Anything?” She decided to dump all her concerns on him at once. 

Obi-Wan was struck by how terrified she sounded. He couldn’t help but think she was remorseful for something. He couldn’t take back what had transpired. Their physical actions left marks on the other, proof of their union. Was she frightened of marriage? Of allowing him into her life as she’d offered? He certainly wouldn’t place any blame on her if she was. Bryagwen had herself and Bryshae to look out for. It’s possible, he thought, that she’d acted rashly, in the heat of the moment. 

His face paled. Bryagwen had gone from being a total stranger to the most important person aside from Luke in his life in less than a day. Surely for him to feel such a strong connection to her, she had to feel something similar as well.

“No, I don’t. Not yet anyway. If the Sith come searching for us and hurt you or Bryshae, I will then. If I do, or have done, something which hurts or endangers you in any way, I would regret that action more than words can say. I don’t regret accepting your hand. However, I do regret one thing.” Obi-Wan paused just long enough to make Bryagwen think over everything he’d just said. What words could possibly be coming to her now? 

“Which is?” She prompted. Obi-Wan smirked slightly. 

“Not taking my time last night. I allowed myself to become so caught up in emotion that I neglected to pleasure you as I’d have preferred to.” Oh. That definitely wasn’t what she’d expected to hear. She stared at him, her mouth open in an ‘o’ shape and eyes wide. Had he not enjoyed himself as much as she’d thought? “When- if- we fall into one another again, I hope you’ll let me treat you properly.”

Bryagwen didn’t need to hear that statement twice. If he thought his actions last night weren’t enough, she couldn’t wait to find out what he thought proper treatment entailed. She imagined his tongue dancing across her nipples, his beard chafing her thighs while his lips secured around her clitoris and brought her to the precipice of ecstacy. Her head filled with thoughts of him trailing kisses across her stretch marks, proof of bringing Bryshae into this world. But she didn’t want everything to focus on her. She wanted to feel his cock brushing the back of her throat while his hand fisted in her hair. She needed to feel the stretch of her walls around him as she rode him to completion, his cum spurting against her cervix. 

She shook her head to clear it of the errant thoughts. 

“Only if you allow me to do the same to you. We are married now, it’s only fair.” She countered, hoping he would allow her the same provision. 

“Without a doubt, my darling.” His voice was near a purr. Bryagwen needed to get back to work or else she was going to get very distracted very quickly. She released his hold on her hand to return to her work station, placing the fabric on her cutting table and grabbing a few rulers and a rotary blade to make some adjustments to the fabric. 

Obi-Wan watched curiously for a while. She would smooth the fabric, lay down a ruler, then cut with the blade to get the straightest edge. Once cut, she placed the fabric in a pile and set to work on the next piece. 

“What is it you are doing?” He asked after a few minutes of observation. 

“Cutting squares for a patchwork quilt.” She mumbled, picking up a pen to mark off the corner on a piece. She repeated the cutting process after a few adjustments. 

“Would you teach me to sew?” Obi-Wan’s voice was soft, almost like he was ashamed to admit he didn’t possess what he was certain she considered a basic skill. For every seamstress there were one hundred people who didn’t have any inkling of an idea of how to sew, and those hundred kept Bryagwen in business. She didn’t judge him for this lack of knowledge for a second. 

“This is actually a good project to learn on. Patchwork quilts are fairly easy.” She offered him her blade and ruler. “Cut out seven inch squares.” 

Obi-Wan set to work immediately. He’d watched her diligently. The ruler lined up with the edge of the fabric, the blade rolled up the ruler to straighten the fabric edge, then the fabric turned to create the next edge. Wash, rinse, repeat until the fabric was done. The process was simple. He Zipped through the fabric, stacking the squares from each piece in neat piles for further use. 

“What’s next?” He inquired. Cutting the fabric had been oddly calming, almost cathartic. He wanted to continue. 

“Well, for a quilt, it’s easiest if you piece together the top first, so take your fabric to one of the machines. Since you’re learning I’d recommend the one I was using for the other quilt earlier. She’s old, but simple and reliable. She’s my favorite.” Obi-Wan picked up the stacks of fabric and carried them to the sewing machine. “If you need to adjust the chair or anything, have at it. You are like a foot taller than me.”

“Nine inches, at most.” He countered, reaching around the bottom of the chair for a lever to raise the chair a couple inches. Obi-Wan pulled it to its full height then stretched his legs. Bryagwen made a mental note of how they reached far past where hers did when sitting in the same position. They were undoubtedly muscular as his upper half had been. Strong enough to hold her against a wall and fuck her into oblivion if the mood so struck.

“It’s already threaded and the bobbin is set, so you get off the hook for those this time. Next time it won’t be so easy.” Bryagwen took a deep breath before deciding to make a bold move. Sewing was something easier to learn by doing, but it helped to have someone to walk you through things the first time. It only made sense to sit on his lap to guide his hands, right? She bit her lip, then perched on Obi-Wan’s thigh facing the machine to continue with the lesson. “Now,” She rocked her hips slightly more than necessary as she leaned forward to reach the lever which lifted the machine’s foot. Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat, an action not missed by Bryagwen. “Luckily, this client didn’t have a particular pattern in mind, so we can be creative. It’s for their daughter, a going away present as she leaves for university on Mandalore.” Bryagwen shifted slightly as she felt Obi-Wan growing hard beneath her. 

“What next?” His voice came out low, gruff. Obi-Wan rolled his hips up to meet hers, cursing the thin dress she donned and the soft pants on his own body. 

“Hand me two different pieces of fabric.” A sigh escaped her lips. Obi-Wan picked two pieces, one adorned with a blue floral pattern and the other with a wildly inaccurate depiction of stars or a galaxy, he wasn’t positive which it was meant to be. “So, you want the printed side to face out when the quilt is finished, so you have to stitch them inside out, if that makes sense.” Bryagwen illustrated her point by placing the squares face down on one another. Obi-Wan took the pieces of fabric in his hands and did the same before placing them under the sewing foot. “Good” She exclaimed, “Generally with quilt tops, I keep seams as small as possible, but, since you’re learning, we’ll widen them a bit so you can keep a hold on the fabric until you get the hang of things. See this line?” Bryagwen pointed to a line denoting a half inch seam. Obi-Wan nodded, then rocked his hips up again. “T-th-the edge of the fabric will go there.”

His chin rested on her shoulder. Obi-Wan adjusted the fabric to meet the indicated line. Bryagwen turned her head to nuzzle his beard scratching against her chin. She softly kissed his jaw, one of her hands holding his chin in place so she could suck small blue marks down his neck. Obi-Wan tugged on the deep neckline of her dress, exposing a breast to the cool breeze. His fingers quickly set to work brushing over her soft nipple, squeezing and pinching slightly to elicit a faint moan.

“Sweet girl, I want to hear those sounds come from your lips. Don’t stifle them.” His voice almost purred. She shifted her weight to allow his growing cock a bit of freedom. It was Obi-Wan’s turn to moan. The slightest shift sent him into overdrive, and he could already feel the pooling heat at her core against his thigh. He freed her other breast and began giving it the same treatment as the first. Bryagwen moaned louder this time, whispering his name.

“Why does everything you say or do have me soaked so quickly?” She sighed, throwing her head back on his shoulder. It was Obi-Wan’s turn to suck small circles down her neck, fiercer than her actions had been to him but passion fueled. 

“We’ve barely begun, darling.” Her breasts began leaking milk, weeping onto his fingers. Obi-Wan removed one of his hands while the other continued its actions. “Open.” He tapped her lips once before she opened them, taking his pointer and index fingers into the knuckle. Bryagwen lapped at the breastmilk clinging to them. “Tell me, what does it taste of, my sweet?” He growled once she’d sufficiently cleaned each finger.

“Sugar, almost like a nut-based milk. But there’s a certain bitterness that dances across the back of the tongue where I drink too much caff.” Bryagwen shifted on his lap to face him. Obi-Wan’s pupils were completely lust-blown. His eyes were darker than they’d been the night before.Something she’d said or done had him strung tighter than she was right now. 

“I had a taste last night, but it wasn’t enough to truly note all the flavors at play. Perhaps it is much richer, much more fulfilling directly from the source?” He eyed her carefully, waiting for her reaction. Bryagwen took a breast in her hand and kneaded the supple skin. 

“Why don’t you find out?” Obi-Wan attacked her breast immediately with his lips. His tongue danced around her pebbled nipple, introducing a pleasant friction everywhere it made contact. He sucked her skin hard, triggering the let down of fluid he was hoping to achieve. Bryagwen had never experienced this feeling in such a scenario. Between the pleasant throb of his sucking, the release of a let down, and the influx of emotions, a tear traced down Bryagwen’s face. She could almost come to an orgasm from his mouth on her breast alone right now. Stars, she was so close. Obi-Wan groaned into her flesh, licking softly at her nipple to encourage more milk to flow. A drop of cream-colored fluid trailed down his chin, dripping onto her dress. She needed something more. His fingers, her fingers, his cock, something. 

From the angle she was sitting at she could free his cock. Bryagwen pushed down his pants. His cock sprung free, bouncing happily at its freedom, a bit of precum leaking from the tip. She brushed a thumb over his tip, smearing the precum before running her hand down his length and wrapping her fingers around his girth. She’d just started to stroke him when Obi-Wan stopped.

“Someone woke up.” He explained. Bryagwen groaned, lightly hitting her head off his shoulder. 

“Mama!” Bryshae shouted from her playpen. Mama’s playtime was over for the time being.

“I’m going to go kill myself. Care to join?” She joked to Obi-Wan as she stood and fixed her clothing. Her underwear was beyond help at this point, soaked through to Obi-Wan’s pants where she’d sat on his lap. 

“I’m not certain, but I think that’s exactly what Shae is trying to do. Kill us, that is.” He commented back. Bryagwen crossed the room to greet her smiling toddler. 

“How’s mommy’s little cockblock? Huh?” She crooned to the child. “Did you have a good nap?” Bryshae planted a sloppy kiss on Bryagwen’s cheek, a sure sign of a good nap. 

“We will continue later, I presume?” Obi-Wan smiled at the sight before him, of Bryagwen holding Bryshae so close and returning her kiss with equal excitement and love. For a split second he wondered what a child of his would look like. Would they have Bryagwen’s dark curls or his auburn locks? Green eyes, obviously, but what shade? 

“Oh, absolutely.” Obi-Wan’s mind quit wondering the second Luke awoke a moment later. He needed a diaper change. Uncle- well dad- to the rescue!


	4. Meditation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan has spent several weeks making his home with Bryagwen. As they grow closer as a couple, and as a family. He begins training Bryagwen in meditation, and is greeted with quite the surprise. 
> 
> Chapter contains mentions of smut, but nothing actually ensues here. It's pretty much just relationship building.

By the end of the day, Bryagwen had managed to finish another quilt top while Obi-Wan kept the kids distracted. He’d contacted her clients in the afternoon as she’d given Bryshae an impromptu bath after the child had discovered a tube of fabric dye in the ten seconds it took Obi-Wan to check on Luke during a nap. Luckily he’d returned to the toddler quickly and abated a disaster, but not before she’d managed to turn her hair a vibrant shade of green. 

Once the clients had stopped by to pick up their wares, Bryagwen was ready to start working on dinner. She wanted something simple after working all day on such little sleep. At Obi-Wan’s suggestion, they opted for pasta with a simple tomato sauce. Bryshae happily slurped at her noodles while Bryagwen found a holodrama for them to ignore while eating dinner in the living room. Obi-Wan was quickly sucked into the screen, and Bryagwen made a mental note to find recordings of the show for him. 

Bryshae went to sleep easily that night. She wasn’t used to having a playtime companion all day. Obi-Wan had worn her out keeping her occupied while Bryagwen worked. Luke, on the other hand, was proving to be a rather difficult child. He would fall asleep on Obi-Wan or Bryagwen’s chests, but the moment they tried to move him to the pod, he would start screeching louder than a banshee. Realizing at least one of them wouldn’t be getting any rest, Obi-Wan brewed a pot of caff and brought their mugs from breakfast to the living room filled with the life-giving liquid. 

“How long will this last?” He asked hesitantly when Luke began to stir once more. Bryagwen simply shrugged. 

“Shae didn’t really go through the crying phase, but most do. Life as a parent is just like this sometimes.” Luke smacked against her chest, calming when he gripped a bit of exposed flesh above her neckline. 

“Why did the Maker decide to punish parents with tiny monsters who scream and defecate constantly?” Obi-Wan watched them. Luke’s head was tucked under Bryagwen’s chin, his ear next to her heart where the steady thumping was no doubt what calmed him to rest. 

“It’s not punishment so much. These tiny monsters’ only world exists around their parents until they can begin exploring and growing. Everything is new and terrifying to them. Poor Luke lost the only thing he knew in the entire galaxy. He’s been tossed into a new world where there’s a strange woman caring for him, another baby that makes the oddest noises and takes part of your time away from him. Everything is different. His world has been turned upside down.” Bryagwen brushed a bit of Luke’s fuzzy hair around. 

“Now I feel bad for saying it was punishment.” Obi-Wan broke their silence after a few moments of contemplation. “I hadn’t quite thought of things from that perspective.” Bryagwen reached out a hand and rubbed Obi-Wan’s thigh lightly. 

“Don’t feel bad. When they do cry a lot, it’s easy to forget how new to the galaxy they are, and how scary everything must be for them.” Obi-Wan rested his head on her shoulder. Bryagwen didn’t think twice before leaning over and planting a kiss atop his head, smoothing the hair in doing so. Obi-Wan stiffened for a second. 

“Bryagwen?” 

“Yes, Obi-Wan?”

“Thank you for everything.” Obi-Wan relaxed, his muscles released and his head slowly lolled to her chest next to Luke’s. Bryagwen was trapped by sleeping men. Seeing no other option, she pulled a blanket free from the arm of the sofa, spread it as best as she could with one free arm over the three of them, and leaned on Obi-Wan for support. From the living room, she could hear Bryshae if she cried. The sofa would suffice as a bed for the night.

\---

Several weeks passed in a similar fashion. Bryagwen would work in the shop while Obi-Wan entertained the children. They took turns preparing meals once she had the chance to teach him the basics of cooking and baking. Bryshae quickly grew attached to Obi-Wan, trailing after him anytime and anywhere possible while Bryagwen took on the main responsibility that came with raising Luke. Luke was growing rapidly. He was able to lift himself up and wiggle minimally. Bryagwen had dubbed him her ‘Wiggle Worm’ and spent special time with each of her children individually each evening to play. 

While the days had descended into domestic bliss, the nights had become the highlight of the adults’ days. Luke had finally begun sleeping in his newly-constructed crib, Bryshae was slowly transitioning to sleeping in her crib every night instead of spending half of them with Bryagwen as she’d been accustomed to. Once the kids were out for the night, Bryagwen and Obi-Wan found themselves completely incapable of keeping their hands off of one another. They would allow a brief reprieve- maybe fifteen minutes- to hastily pick up Bryshae’s toys, activate a housekeeping droid to vacuum any crumbs (and there were many) on the floor, and to breathe without the kids interrupting them. 

Generally the escapades started with Bryagwen stepping into the shower. She’d discard her clothes from the day to a basket in the bedroom before entering the adjoining bathroom. Obi-Wan normally took a few moments to rest on the bed, occasionally falling asleep while she cleaned up. More often than not, she was quickly joined by the auburn headed man. Obi-Wan would gently massage her shampoo through her hair and onto her scalp. Bryagwen would do the same for him. Somewhere between these simple, caring actions and drying off, both parties were keyed up and ready to take one another to bed. 

Tonight was different, though. Having spent ample time with Bryagwen, Obi-Wan had gotten a glimpse of what natural Force-wielding abilities she possessed. She was beyond simple sensitivity, having honed her abilities to influence others and to rely on her instincts to some extent, but was not so well versed to merit what he would consider a sizable ability to utilize the Force. They had been practicing simple meditation tactics when time allowed beneath the now barren trees next to her workshop. Obi-Wan had built a small patio (with the help of a certain one-year old as shown by the tiny handprints in the duracrete) just large enough to lay out a few pillows for resting while meditating. Bryagwen found a swing large enough to hold them both during a trip to the market. With her husband’s help, they strung it up in the tree, just over a corner of the patio for use on days when the ground was too wet to meditate comfortably. 

Tonight they brought out a monitor to listen to the children sleeping soundly in their room and made their way to the patio. It was cold, as the early nights of winter tended to be on Zanbar. Bryagwen had bundled herself in a thick blanket while Obi-Wan donned a near-perfect recreation of his Jedi robes. Leaves crunched beneath their feet. Obi-Wan leaned back on the swing, letting his feet lift from the ground and wave easily with the gentle breeze. 

He missed meditation beneath the stars of Coruscant. From the top of the Jedi Temple, he could often focus on the stars above despite the bright lights of the city. It was his sanctuary where his emotions were on full display if only for a few moments each time he paid homage. It was the place he’d sought solace when Qui-Gon Jinn had died, looked to his master when Anakin began to fall, and most importantly, it was the place where he made his most difficult decisions. Obi-Wan wouldn’t admit it to Bryagwen, but he longed for the chance to travel to those stars again. He had become homesick for a home he could never return to. This patio, crudely constructed of duracrete, boards, and stone was the only piece of Coruscant Obi-Wan could have on Zanbar. And it paled in comparison to his sacred space.

Bryagwen could see the inner turmoil in everything Obi-Wan did. His sentences were brusque, his movements tense. He was struggling to adjust to life without a war, without some greater purpose than to simply exist. She supposed it was to be expected. He had been plucked from a home planet he didn’t even know the name of before he was even Bryshae’s age to be raised a Jedi. His entire life had been strictly regimented. Freedom had to be suffocating. She couldn’t imagine having everything she’d ever known stripped away in a single day. 

She watched Obi-Wan from a few feet away. He bore a thousand-yard stare, memories of his past seeming to flit across his face. She hated these moments. He would become so lost in thought that the world around him disappeared. If she moved too quickly, or made a noise too loud, Obi-Wan would often jump up in a panic, grabbing at his side for the saber he rarely carried anymore. After accidentally injuring Bryagwen once, he’d been so consumed by guilt he refused to carry the weapon on most occasions. She hadn’t been the slightest bit angry with him. She’d only felt concern. For a man normally so well composed to lose his grip like that, he must have been in tumult. Bryagwen held him as he’d cried that night, despite his protests of fear that he’d hurt her again. That had been nearly a month ago, and he had yet to so much as hurt her feelings let alone her body. 

“Obi?” She asked him softly, reaching out to him with her aura instead of physically. He often reacted calmer to her presence slowly approaching from all angles. Obi-Wan blinked, shook his head, and leaned up. 

“Yes, love?” His voice was tinged with a tone she hadn’t heard before. Fear? Pain? Regret?

“What were you thinking of?” She joined him on the swing. They leaned back, shoulders touching and hands entwined to gaze at the sky. A few wisps of cloud obscured the view of Mandalore slightly, marring the planet minimally. The stars beyond the planet shined bright, illuminating the yard. 

“The way things were.” She hadn’t really expected that answer. “It’s been nearly three months, and I still want to meditate on the rooftop gardens.” He admitted after a pause. “I want to speak to Master Yoda, to tell him about you and the kids. Our code, it forbade attachments. They would cloud the mind, create lapses in judgement, but Yoda would have understood. He was one of the few, aside from Qui-Gon, who would have.” Bryagwen turned her head to watch him. A single tear streaked down his cheek, catching in his beard. “I miss Ahsoka. You would have loved her, Bryagwen. Headstrong, intelligent, kind. More than once she put me in my place.” 

“Is there a chance she’s still out there somewhere? She wasn’t a Jedi when the purge occurred, right?” Obi-Wan stilled. He had never not considered her a Jedi, but technically she wasn’t when the order had been executed. 

“The last I knew, she had captured Maul on Mandalore and was transporting him to Coruscant to face trial. With a battalion of clones. I suppose there’s a chance, but Ahsoka never stopped being a Jedi despite the council excommunicating her. The clones likely couldn’t tell the difference. They were frenzied, and she had twin sabers.” He sounded defeated. Bryagwen assumed he had played this scenario over in his head multiple times. A single Padawan against an entire battalion of trained soldiers? The odds didn’t favor Ahsoka. 

“You can reach out to those you have a bond with through the Force, right?” Obi-Wan nodded. “Have you tried doing that? If she’s alive, she’s likely just as lost as you.”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “No, I haven’t. I’m afraid to know if she’s alive.”

“Knowing would be better than constantly wondering, would it not?”

“Easier? Yes. Better? Not necessarily. Anakin and I sent her on that mission. If she died because of my actions, however indirect…” he trailed off, but didn’t need to finish the sentence. He’d lost so much already. Perhaps the hope of Ahsoka living was worth the uncertainty.

“You don’t have to explain anything, Obi.” She leaned over to place a soft kiss on his cheek where she’d seen the tear dissipate among his beard. “Would you like to meditate for a bit? I know this isn’t your garden, but meditating may help you calm some.” 

“I think that would be an excellent idea. Plus, we are still working on achieving a true, meditative state for you. Do you truly believe I would let the day pass without at least trying?” A sad smile quirked at the edge of Obi-Wan’s lips. Bryagwen let out a huff. 

“Shall we assume the uncomfortable position?” She shoved Obi-Wan off the swing playfully, landing him on the basket of pillows. 

“It’s only uncomfortable if you make it so.” He countered, picking up a pillow and tossing it at Bryagwen. 

“Says you. You never gave birth to a human child. Your hips don’t have that sort of trauma that makes sitting on duracrete difficult.” She rolled off the swing on top of Obi-Wan, losing her blanket in the process. 

“That would be believable if your hips bothered you at any other time. And i’m fairly certain we’ve tested situations which should be much more uncomfortable on them.” He grabbed the blanket and bundled it around them both, absorbing the heat her body radiated. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She grumbled, nuzzling her head to his neck. 

“Sit up straight, cross your legs, and at least pretend to meditate, for my sanity.” They sat up together, blanket across their shoulders, knees touching while their eyes closed and the sounds of nature enveloped them. 

Meditation was easy for Obi-Wan. It was a tactic trained into him at an incredibly young age. For Bryagwen, however, her mind ran a thousand parsecs a second thinking about what she had to do the next day, wondering about Ahsoka, and worrying about Obi-Wan. 

“Remember the breathing technique. Deep breaths to calm and help induce the state.” Obi-Wan had obviously sensed her unease. Bryagwen opted to ignore him and instead focus on the thought at the forefront of her mind: Ahsoka. Would it be possible for her to reach out to the Togruta without having the sort of bond Obi-Wan had mentioned was necessary? Bryagwen tried to picture the young woman as she had been described to her at present and in the past. Young, boisterous, headstrong, intelligent, kind, stereotypical Togruta build with unique patterns to her skin. Ahsoka had been a granddaughter of sorts to Obi-Wan. Bryagwen focused on her own bond with Obi-Wan, one built on trust, learning, and love and tried to flesh out what the sort of bond Ahsoka had would have been like. Likely stern, but with a softness on the edges letting her know she could come to him with anything. 

The world around Bryagwen started shifting. She wasn’t cold, she didn’t feel the soft breeze against her cheeks or the way Obi-Wan lightly brushed his fingers across her knuckles before realizing she’d actually achieved a meditative state. A warmth permeated her skin, building from her chest and working its way out to her fingertips. To reach out with the Force wasn’t to physically reach, but to emotionally touch another being with your aura. She focused on Ahsoka again, taking a deep breath before sending every bit of effort possible to her signature to broadcast it as far as possible, searching for the soul who had been touched by her husband. 

After a few moments, a soprano voice echoed in her head. There was a certain nasal quality, but not so much that Bryagwen was startled. The voice spoke softly, Who are you? Bryagwen didn’t know how to respond other than trying to influence emotions. She tried to speak, but words wouldn’t come. Maybe she had to think, to speak without making a noise? She decided to opt for a single word, Ahsoka. After a few moments the other voice replied meekly, Yes. Who are you? Bryagwen opted for another simple response, Kenobi. His name was uncommon. If this really was Ahsoka, his name would grab her attention. Where?, the voice thundered, sending waves of relief to Bryagwen. Zanbar, market district, Djarrin Sewing Shop. Bryagwen could feel exhaustion tugging at the edges of her consciousness. She repeated the words again, a hail mary attempt to communicate the information as she fell out of the meditative state. 

Suddenly she could feel the cold again. Bryagwen opened her eyes and looked for the sound echoing in the background. Obi-Wan spoke to her, asking her name with concern lacing his voice. 

“I’m not certain, but I believe you may have finally achieved a true, meditative state, love.” Obi-Wan kissed her cheek softly, his whiskers brushing the tender skin and tickling her.

“Ahsoka’s alive!” She blurted out, her deep green eyes seeking out his immediately. “I-I don’t know how, but I spoke to her. Obi-Wan, she’s alive.” Obi-Wan was understandably shocked by this news. He sat in front of her slack-jawed, staring. Bryagwen was certain she’d found the right signature amid the billions in the galaxy. Something about the brief conversation seemed right, it felt true. “Her voice. It’s high-pitched and a bit nasal.” She offered as some, small amount of proof. 

“Are you certain?” He choked out. Bryagwen thought over what had happened for a moment. 

“Yes.” She finally spoke. “She’s coming here.” She tacked on. Excitement filled her eyes.

“I’ll make up the attic room.” The same relief she felt from Ahsoka, Bryagwen felt rolling off of Obi-Wan now. She imagined them being reunited would be similar to a parent and child reuniting. Relief had to be at the bottom of the barrel of emotions swirling through Obi-Wan right now. 

“We’ll get some rest tonight and spend tomorrow cleaning out the room, okay?” Bryagwen stood and stuck a hand out to help Obi-Wan up. 

“How did you manage to reach her?” He asked curiously, accepting her hand and hauling the blanket up with him. 

“Followed your advice to breathe and focus.” She shrugged. “I pictured what you had told me about her, tried to imagine your bond with her. Eventually, things just clicked. I’m exhausted now, though.”

“I would imagine so. What you did is almost unheard of. To reach out and converse with those you are close to, that you have some sort of established bond is one thing. It can be tiring enough depending on the distance and effort involved. Conversing with a stranger had to be the will of the Force.” 

“It seemed easy in the moment. I was thinking about you, how hopeless you looked talking about her. I’d do anything to make you smile, to give you some semblance of normal. It just sort of happened.” Bryagwen held open the door for Obi-Wan as they both walked in the house.

“This is promising. We’ll have to continue exploring this path.” He closed the door behind them. “If you’re advancing this much, it may be time to begin combat training.” 

“I’ve had combat training.” She dismissed his idea. “Zanbar may only be a moon, but we still practice most of the more conservative Mandalorian customs here. I don’t wear my armor because I’m a mother, but I’ve likely had more combat training than you.”

“You’ve also not actively trained since getting pregnant. A refresher may be necessary.”

“Tomorrow?” He had a valid point. Years of academy training wouldn’t disappear, but the skills could get sloppy. 

“Tomorrow.” He agreed.

\---

Tomorrow promised warmer weather than the previous days. Obi-Wan cleared out the attic enough to prepare a space for Ahsoka, whenever she showed. There wasn’t much room. The attic was primarily used for storage. Boxes of memorabilia, old decorations and clothes were scattered around the floor. A musty, old dresser stood against the far wall. Obi-Wan stuffed it full of extra blankets, sheets, and pillows. A long-discarded bed frame required some assembly and a new mattress, both of which he eagerly provided. If Ahsoka found her way to them, she would have a bed, a home to come to. 

Bryagwen walked to the market, both children strapped into seats on a double stroller she’d recently purchased. Bryshae jabbered on to the vendors, babbling about anything and everything then showing them her stuffed bantha toy. They were running low on groceries of all kinds, much to Bryagwen’s frustration. She truly only had herself to blame. She loathed the social interaction the market brought, so sometimes their stores would run thin before she’d brave the public. 

The market had expanded some since she’d met Obi-Wan there months ago. A couple new shops had opened boasting specialties previously unknown to the sleepy moon. She was intrigued, but had a bigger mission in mind: survive grocery shopping with two children under the age of two. She quickly found several bags worth of her staple groceries, a couple packages of items kept in the house from time to time, and finally she stopped in the cafe to grab a couple pounds of fresh-roasted caff to abate the growing fatigue she’d handled since taking on Luke. 

“Excuse me,” a familiar voice interrupted Bryagwen trying to pay for her caff, “Could either of you tell me how to find Djarrin Sewing Shop?” Bryagwen motioned for the speaker to wait just a second, finished the transaction, and turned to the stranger. This sort of thing happened fairly often. Zanbar was a small moon, and only a handful of seamstresses still worked regularly. 

“I’m actually the owner. What can I help you with?” She turned to meet the speaker. A Togruta female with blue and white striped montrails caught her attention. “Ahsoka Tano?” She whispered.

“You must be who found me. Where’s Master Obi-Wan?” The younger woman questioned. Her gaze shifted to the kids in the stroller, Bryshae was fast asleep while Luke roused slightly at Ahsoka’s voice. 

“He’s at the house. It’s a short walk back, if you want to come with me.” Ahsoka propped the door open for her to wiggle the stroller through.

“Who are you?” Ahsoka asked once out of earshot of prying ears in the market. 

“Bryagwen Dj- well, it’s Kenobi now. I’m still getting used to the name change. Sorry.” She replied easily. “I’m Obi-Wan’s wife.”

“Okay.” The younger woman pondered this for a moment. “These aren’t his kids are they? He was running off to Mandalore fairly often. They could be.” Bryagwen stifled a laugh. 

“No, they aren’t. Although, Shae is picking up on some of his quirks enough that she could convince folks otherwise.” It was Ahsoka’s turn to chuckle. 

“It’s the cape toss, isn’t it?”

“So he’s always just been that way, then?”

“Yes. And it’s unfortunately a trait he passed down the lineage.” Obi-Wan had made comments about Anakin and Ahsoka both being a bit over dramatic. Perhaps this is what Ahsoka meant? Bryagwen didn’t have a chance to inquire further as they neared the house.

Ahsoka helped her pick up the stroller over the porch steps and propped open the door once again. 

“Gwen?” Obi-Wan called out from the attic where he had just managed to fit sheets over the mattress. 

“Kitchen.” She replied easily, starting to put up the groceries. 

Ahsoka took a seat at the table. A few scrapes and bangs were heard from the attic as Obi-Wan decided to move something else before joining them. 

“Need any help?” Obi-Wan stepped into the kitchen clad trousers and a t-shirt, sweat from cleaning the attic clung to the shirt, showing off his lean frame. He ran a hand through his hair to smooth down the rogue locks curling away from their normal, slicked back position. Bryagwen eyed him, her irises darkening. If not for Ahsoka, she may have suggested a midday rendezvous while Bryshae and Luke slept in the stroller. 

“I don’t, but Ahsoka might.” Bryagwen decided against her base urge to climb him like a tree. 

“Ah-”

“Master!” Ahsoka jumped from her seat. Obi-Wan grabbed her by her shoulders and simply held onto her for a few minutes. The Jedi had months to catch up on. Ahsoka had managed to survive impossible odds with a clone called Rex. Obi-Wan had been forced to butcher Cody’s battalion on Utapau before a midnight flight to Mustafar. She’d been living on Mandalore, trying to cobble the planet back together with Bo-Katan. He’d been in hiding with Luke. Bryagwen started a pot of caff, handed them each mugs and made herself one. The kids were still sleeping, they could take their time catching up.


	5. Life Anew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka visits with Obi-Wan, Bryagwen takes a test, Obi-Wan has lots of anxiety and comes to a realization.

None of them had quite realized how much time had passed since Order 66 and the Siege of Mandalore, or how much there was to catch up on. Ahsoka had been attempting to aid the Mandalorians in rebuilding their empire alongside Bo Katan Kryze and her faction of Death Watch. Attempt being the keyword when looking at the ruins Darth Maul and the Shadow Collective had left behind. Within the span of only three months, some order had been restored to the planet, Bo Katan had been placed in power, and Satine’s pacifist policies were beginning to be replaced with far more aggressive measures which would ensure the survival of the Mandalorians as both a race and creed. 

Death Watch had split into two factions; Death Watch headed by Bo Katan Kryze and the Shadow Collective headed by Pre Vizsla.The latter advocated for the conservative Mandalorian creed from generations past which included tenets such as forced combat training, creating warriors out of everyone, survival of the fittest, and extreme secrecy. This creed had fallen out of practice on Mandalore and Zanbar for good reason; it wasn’t sustainable. All warriors meant little to no healers, no child care providers, no artisans. It meant a way of life akin to slavery to most modern Mandalorians. Bryagwen abhorred those teachings. They resulted in a clan which took her first husband from her, decimated what family she had before the war, and broke apart families and friends sometimes permanently. She hoped that the remaining Death Watch was nothing like the one she’d known. Life under fire was not one she wanted to live, nor one she wanted to raise her children in. 

Ahsoka claimed the Shadow Collective was recuperating on Concordia, where they’d initially formed. Bryagwen was just happy they weren’t on Zanbar, conscripting those less fortunate than her into their service. It was only a matter of time before they reformed and attempted a coup. Vizsla wouldn’t be happy to see another Kryze seated as leader of Mandalore and its moons. She wasn’t mentally ready for another war, but it appeared she may need to prepare for one just in case. 

The kids had woken up as the Jedi brought each other up to speed on their situations. As much as Bryagwen wanted to speak with Ahsoka, Bryshae needed a bath and Luke was due for a feeding. Both of which could be accomplished at the same time if done carefully. Bryshae splashed bubbles across the water with her little hands, squealing with happiness and the occasional call of ‘mama’ for her mother’s attention. Luke sucked away at Bryagwen’s breast while she thought. 

Three months had passed since Obi-Wan showed up with the little boy in her arms now. Three months. She almost couldn’t believe how rapidly their lives had changed. With his help, she was finally managing to fight through her melancholy, seeing a light where she’d previously just seen more of the same. He helped keep the house clean, pitched in on her easier jobs to try and learn the art of sewing, aided in all of the child rearing duties, and took time each evening to work with her on her Force sensitivities. She didn’t understand how he managed to do so much, but supposed he kept busy out of habit. It had been three months to change their lives, and Bryagwen had no idea how to tell the man down the hall a piece of information that might change theirs even further.

She’d put the pieces together while listening to Ahsoka. Bryagwen hadn’t meant to tune the younger Jedi out, but when a time increment was mentioned, it got her wheels turning. Her cycles hadn’t been regular since Bryshae’s birth. She hadn’t realized how long it had been since her last one at first, but three months between was a long shot even for her. 

Bryagwen waited for Luke to finish his meal before summoning the pod and placing him in it to pilfer through the bathroom cabinet. When she’d been trying to get pregnant with Bryshae, she’d bought a device that could measure her hormone levels from a drop of blood. With any luck, it was still in the cabinet and she could have a definitive answer before bringing the kids back to the kitchen. 

“There you are!” She mumbled, unclasping the plastic casing and pricking her finger with the probe on one end of the device. She let the device absorb her blood, and simply waited. It took a few minutes, if she remembered correctly. Bryagwen decided not to squander her time. Bryshae was beginning to prune. She made quick work of the girl’s hair, dried her off, and dressed her in a warm set of pajamas for the rest of the evening. The plan was to have a late dinner then send the kids to bed and opt for meditation. Whether or not that plan was still in effect, she was unsure, but intended to continue acting as if it were. She could hear a beeping from the countertop where she’d sat the device down alerting her to a result.

“Go get daddy!” Bryagwen encouraged Bryshae with a pat to her bottom as the toddler waddled as quickly as her little legs would allow towards the kitchen. Once Bryshae disappeared from her sight, Bryagwen turned to face the counter. 

She’d been tired, exhausted actually. Between the extra projects she’d managed to finish, her almost nightly escapades, raising children, and trying to balance everything, she’d chalked her fatigue up to general stress. Adjusting to life with a husband again hadn’t been a walk in the park either. Obi-Wan had quirks which irritated her to her core, as she had some which certainly got under his skin as well. They’d jumped into a situation headfirst without thinking of the repercussions on themselves, only for the innocents involved. 

She and Obi-Wan had been far from safe in their endeavors. He seldom finished outside of her unless the mood so struck for Bryagwen to suck his perfect cock or take him in her hands to cum across her tits. She couldn’t help that she was a sucker for the way cum leaking down her thighs left her reveling in the feeling of knowing she did that to him, made him lose his control so beautifully. He would always cum with a moan on his lips somewhere between agony and a prayer. To know she had been filled so completely was bliss. With the chaos of everything else, suitable birth control had been the last thought on her mind, particularly when his mouth was on hers as he came down from the endorphin-induced high a damn good orgasm always brought. In retrospect, Bryagwen was almost surprised this would be the first scare. From their first tryst to their most recent, they were nothing but passion, not a sensible thought between them. 

The device lit up the second she tapped the screen reading a result with some data. Positive. Estimated gestational age: seven weeks. 

Bryagwen was caught somewhere between betrayal and elation. Betrayal was only pertinent to herself, that she had allowed herself to become so sidetracked with other things to not realize for at least three weeks that she was pregnant. Elation, she hoped, would apply to both her and Obi-Wan. Bryagwen had only ever wanted two things in life, her sewing shop and a large family. When her first husband died, she contented herself with only Bryshae, but now she had two children, and was on her way to a third. She and Obi-Wan hadn’t discussed having more children yet, something they probably should have rather quickly given the nature of their relationship. 

“Are you alright?” Obi-Wan’s tenor cut through the fog of thought and panic clouding her head. “Ahsoka and I both sensed a change in your signature rather abruptly.” He explained his presence quickly. Of course, she thought, he would notice. 

“Uhm, yeah. I think so, anyway.” She paused, mulling over her next words carefully. “Listen, we need to talk. It can wait until after everyone else is asleep for the night, but we need to soon.”

“Ahsoka can handle Bryshae for a little while, love. What’s wrong?” Obi-Wan’s fingers gently trailed up her arms. Once reaching her shoulders, he pulled her away from the bathroom sink and held her as she fidgeted trying to figure out what words to use. He gently led her to the bed where they sat down and Bryagwen’s head began to spiral.

With Bryshae, things had been planned. She was a very much wanted child. They’d mapped out Bryagwen’s cycles, matched them to her husband’s schedule, and worked everything out down to an almost exact science. The only part they didn’t control was the unknown variable, conception itself. It was a gamble no matter how hard you tried to arrange the perfect circumstances. It had taken several months, but they’d finally gotten lucky. He’d taken a week away from the military in order to properly celebrate, just the two of them picking out her crib, pod, and most of Bryshae’s other hardware before finding out she would be a girl and starting to find fabrics for Bryagwen to make most of Shae’s clothing.

With this child, Bryagwen didn’t know what to expect. Obi-Wan hadn’t signed on for more children. He’d wanted to focus on protecting Luke, becoming a father to Bryshae. They’d never even approached the topic in the three months they’d been together. 

“I, uhm, well, I don’t really know how to say it, but, uh-”

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” He interrupted, a smile softening the look of concern on his face. She didn’t miss the way his eyes lit up, how his irises suddenly sparked with gold. 

“Yeah.” She smiled back. “How did you know?” 

“There’s a certain warmth that accompanies a pregnant woman’s force signature. Last night, when you were meditating, your signature was strong, as was that warmth.” He explained easily. Bryagwen could sense something beyond simple happiness rolling off him in waves. Perhaps ecstasy was the correct term? “I was going to talk to you about it tonight.” 

“Dank farrik, you should have said something! I wouldn’t have been panicking in there then!” She exclaimed, smacking Obi-Wan’s upper arm and shoving him away from her. With an over-enunciated ‘oof’ and display of pain Obi-Wan threw himself back on the pillows. This earned an eye roll from Bryagwen. 

“Why were you panicking, love?” He tugged her down next to him. Bryagwen took a moment to appreciate the concern lacing his voice, overlaying his eyes, and begging him to reach out to her with a calming aura composed of tenderness. 

“We hadn’t discussed this.” She stated plainly. 

“That doesn’t make me love you or the child any less. Oftentimes the greatest things in life are those we least expected.” He paused for a second, placing a soft kiss on Bryagwen’s lips. “You’ve always been beautiful, Gwen, but do you have any idea how much more beautiful you’ve grown in just the last day? How that warmth is all I can feel, all I can see around you? And that beauty will only grow-” Obi-Wan laid a hand tenderly on her midsection, extending his signature out as delicately as possible in hopes of possibly brushing the miniscule life residing there. “As our child grows.” 

They stayed like this for some time. Obi-Wan trying to reach their child. He simply wanted the child, even though they were merely a cluster of cells with largely undefined purpose at this point, to know they were loved from the very start of their existence by a father who never thought this sort of life possible. He’d brushed Bryagwen’s shirt up, exposing her stomach. She’d always been self conscious of her stomach. Even before Bryshae, she hadn’t been in the impeccable shape Mandalorians were famed for. She’d never set much stock on building herself into a warrior. She craved domesticity, children, a life she could create and be proud of. She looked down to the man tenderly cradling her belly, still slightly pouched where she’d never fully recovered from Bryshae’s birth fifteen months prior. He left kisses along the handful of stretch marks any time he was granted the opportunity, but now he whispered promises of love to a child who wouldn’t be able to hear them for several months still. 

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Ahsoka interrupted them at some point, Bryshae on her hip attempting to chomp on Ahsoka’s lekku. Bryagwen simply smiled up from the bed. Obi-Wan was the one at a loss for words this time. “You realize this means you have to name it after me if its a girl, right? Old Togruta tradition.”

“Mandalorian tradition says it's to be named after a great warrior.” Bryagwen countered. Obi-Wan reluctantly removed himself from her side and hastily pulled her shirt down to cover the expanse of skin. “Tell you what, if you can best Obi in hand to hand, you’ve got a deal.” Ahsoka snorted.

“Oh, that’s easy. Master Obi-Wan may be the better swordsman, but I’ve always been the better fighter.” Ahsoka swatted at Bryshae as the girl managed to bite down on her. 

“We are not naming our child Ahsoka. I can only handle one of them.” Obi-Wan broke up the deal before it was able to be struck. He rolled off the bed then offered a hand to Bryagwen. 

“At least name me godmother, then? Come on, who else would you trust to raise your child, Master?” 

“The Organa’s.” He responded bluntly, shooting a smug smile to the former Padawan.Bryagwen retrieved Bryshae from Ahsoka, signaled the pod to follow her, and left the Jedi to argue while she prepared dinner. It seemed like a good evening for comfort food.

\---

Obi-Wan held Bryagwen closer than normal that night, his arms wound tight around her ribs. His excitement could be felt everywhere. His legs rustled relentlessly, his fingers drummed against her skin. His heart beat rapidly in his chest. He was elated. The energy simply wouldn’t wear off.

“Are you still awake, love?” He spoke softly just in case she was sleeping. The last thing he wanted to do was wake her when she was getting some much-needed rest. The day had been an emotional rollercoaster between finding Ahsoka and discovering Byragwen’s pregnancy. He could understand if she fell asleep quickly. 

“Barely.” Her voice was groggy having been pulled from the edge of sleep. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be, riduur.”

“That’s husband, right?” He inquired about the bit of Mando’a she spoke. Bryagwen didn’t often speak it if only so he would understand her. Only in moments like these, where sleep addled her brain, or like earlier when she was too frazzled in the moment to remember Basic.

“It’s gender neutral. Sort of like ‘spouse’, but yes.” 

“What did you say earlier? Dank something”

“Dank farrik doesn’t translate directly, but carries the same sentiment as ‘damn it’ or ‘son of a bitch’.” 

“Gwen, thank you for this child.” His hands spanned across her torso almost protectively already. 

“You contributed just as much as I did to them. Don’t thank me. We are equal partners in this.” Bryagwen replied softly, her hands covering his. 

“For the initial creation, yes, but you will go through so much to bring our son or daughter into this world. It’s hardly equal. I was already indebted to you for everything else, but now I am irrevocably so. To create life is an ability only the Force provides, and yet that’s exactly what you are doing. This life, this child, stars, I already love them so much. And you, I didn’t think it possible to love you any more.” 

“Kar’taylir darasuum.” She smiled. “I love you too.” She repeated in Basic for him. “It’s uncomfortable. It’s messy, frustrating, painful, and terrifying, but in the end, the baby is worth every bit of the struggle, at least they are to me. Just wait until you can hold them the first time, Obi. When they wrap a little hand around your finger and open those tiny eyes. They just stare up at you in wonder. It is-”

“Sublime.” Obi-Wan finished her sentence. “It took about a week before any sort of emotions truly rushed after taking Luke, but that was the first one I recall. Here was this infant, alone in the galaxy with nobody to turn to. And yet he cooed to me, looked to me for comfort. When things clicked, no other feeling could compare.” 

“It took awhile for me to really form an attachment to Shae. About a month. The love was immediate, the need to care for my child was non negotiable from the start, but that mother instinct wasn’t. The first time she smiled was the turning point for me, when things finally made sense.” 

They laid together, Obi-Wan holding her to his chest, his arms wrapped tight around her ribs and hands spread wide across her midsection, his chin perched on her shoulder breathing in her soft scent of lavender and mint. She’d fallen asleep quickly in his embrace. Pleasant dreams of their family spending the days with one another filled her head. A soft smile graced her lips. 

For every bit as relaxed as Bryagwen was, Obi-Wan couldn’t calm down enough to rest. He wasn’t concerned with her or their children. He knew at his core that she would do everything in her power to care for them and love them with every fiber of her being. After their meditation the evening before, he’d begun to feel uneasy. She’d managed to connect with Ahsoka with hardly any training and no true connection to Ahsoka outside of him. Bryagwen was very strong with the Force, this much was evident, but her strength frightened him. 

When he’d left Coruscant the Empire had mounted a program to track down any remaining Jedi for execution. It would only be a matter of time before the inquisitors found him and ultimately her. Bryagwen hadn’t known what sort of attention reaching out for Ahsoka would bring, but a surge of energy as raw and untamed as she had caused would have sent ripples throughout the galaxy. Surely the Emperor would have felt them. Surely Anakin would have, should he have survived Mustafar. Her aura had been so bright, so warm. A beacon of light for the entire universe to guide themselves by. He’d known immediately she was pregnant. He had also known that in that instant they would have to leave Zanbar. Ahsoka came to them easily. With Bryagwen’s ignorance of the Force, she hadn’t sought out any sort of shield to protect their connection to keep prying ears from listening in. He couldn’t know if their conversation, however brief, had been private. He’d wanted to protect them before, but had even more reason to do so now. 

Obi-Wan made a mental note to speak with Bryagwen in the morning while sleep finally tugged at the edges of his vision. She knew of his past with Anakin, Emperor Palpatine, and Darth Maul, not to mention other various criminals in the galaxy’s underworld as a result of his life as a Jedi. They’d been protected by anonymity until last night. The Empire was his greatest concern, but Ahsoka had brought news of Maul’s survival, adding another soul to the pile he had to protect his family against. 

While Bryagwen’s dreams were of a pleasant future full of smiling children, Obi-Wan slept fitfully. Echoes of Maul’s laughter overlaid with the image of Anakin perishing at his hand, Anakin’s voice cracking as he shouted hate at his master. Flashes of Bryagwen and the children murdered, their heads severed from their bodies much as the younglings he’d encountered in the Jedi Temple had been after Anakin’s betrayal had been. When Obi-Wan awoke the next morning he suddenly understood every reason why Anakin had turned to the dark.


	6. The Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know nothing, Ahsoka Tano. 
> 
> But mainly, the Kenobi's seek refuge for their safety.

The light of hope settled over the Kenobi home early the next morning as Bryagwen and Ahsoka discussed their growing family over steaming mugs of caff. Obi-Wan had disappeared to their meditation patio well before anyone else awoke. Ahsoka attempted to feed Bryshae bites of pancakes and fruit while Bryagwen made a second pot of caff and watched Obi-Wan through the kitchen window. He’d been outside for hours. 

“How can someone possibly hold that form for so long?” Bryagwen mumbled more to herself than anything, but Ahsoka heard and let out a small laugh. 

“It’s drilled into a Jedi at a young age. Something must be bothering him to have spent so much time in meditation. It’s not like him to spend hours meditating.” Ahsoka replied easily. She used the toddler’s fascination with her lekku to her advantage to distract Bryshae into opening her mouth for a forkfull of pancakes. “Score!” She shouted once the child took a bite.

“How do his hips not ache after? Mine always hurt for a day or two after more than about twenty minutes sitting to meditate.” Ahsoka shrugged. 

“I think it has something to do with how men and women are built. It didn’t used to bother me, but it started to around the same time I started having periods and stuff. Obi-Wan would get very frustrated with me for not concentrating, but it’s impossible to when it feels like an anvil is weighing on your pelvis.” Bryagwen sat the fresh pot of caff on the table between her and Ahsoka. She topped off each of their mugs and took over feeding Bryshae. The young girl was quickly growing bored with her breakfast and elected to start tossing her pancakes to the floor. 

“That actually makes sense. We have loads of extra organs and our hips are set different to begin with to allow for childbirth.” 

“Which is great and all,” Ahsoka agreed, “But I have no interest in having children or utilizing those organs, so why did I have to be made with them?” Bryagwen stifled a laugh. “Seriously. I’ll be Aunt Ahsoka all day long, but the parent life isn’t for me. Bryshae asked for a snack before breakfast earlier and I just kept giving her cookies because I couldn’t say no. Besides, the entire process of getting pregnant just seems messy and gross.” 

“Hey, to each their own. I always knew I wanted to be a mom. It sounds like you’ve always known just the opposite.” Bryagwen paused to remove Bryshae’s plate since she now knew why the toddler wasn’t eating as she normally would. “The process of getting pregnant can be messy, but damn is it fun. Especially with a receptive partner.” She unclipped Bryshae from her high chair and released her to run amok in the kitchen while the adults conversed over their caff. 

“And is Obi-Wan?” If Ahsoka had eyebrows, Bryagwen would have sworn she’d seen them arch up as if to suggest she wanted to discuss the details of her sex life. 

“Very. He’s definitely not what I would have expected in a Jedi.” Ahsoka choked on her caff. 

“My ears are burning.” Obi-Wan interrupted the pair as the door whooshed behind him. Bryshae toddled to him, arms outstretched, calling out for ‘daddy’ as she went. Obi-Wan picked her up with ease. “What were you two talking abo-”

“NOTHING MASTER!” Ahsoka shouted, her cheeks turning red. 

“I’m sure.” A grin crept across his lips. 

“I was just telling her that you weren’t quite what I expected when I agreed to marry a Jedi.” Bryagwen rolled her eyes at the younger woman’s outburst. “Based on her reaction, I’m guessing the Jedi Order wasn’t very sex positive?” Obi-Wan chortled. 

“Oh, maker, no. Some took forsaking attachments to extremes and swore off sex. Most of the Masters refused to teach their Padawans any sort of education on the subject. Qui-Gon was rather open with me, as I was with Anakin. It seems as if this mindset didn’t extend down the lineage though.” 

“Anakin was open with me about this stuff. Well, he was via Padme. The process just seems ridiculous, but I have questions. I’m only seventeen. I feel like it’s only natural.” 

“You’re only seventeen? How are you only seventeen? You’ve commanded armies but nobody has answered your questions about sex yet? Haar’chak! Obi-Wan, cancel my jobs for the day. Ahsoka and I are going to be spending it together since evidently you never made sure she knew this stuff.” Bryagwen jumped up and walked to the sink to wash the morning’s dishes. “She’s a child still and you left her in charge of the Siege of Mandalore? Dank farrik, oritsir.” She grumbled more to herself than her husband, earning a chuckle from the man. “I mean, I attended the academy at eighteen, and Mir joined Deathwatch at twenty, but, Maker, you’re not even old enough to vote or drive or even drink alcohol! At least I could-”

“I caught ‘damn’ and some general sort of curse in there. Bo-Katan must be teaching me Mando’a better than I thought. Do you guys just have sex and never talk about your lives before all this?” Ahsoka interrupted Bryagwen’s rambling with a laugh threatening to break through her voice. 

“We do. I just didn’t realize how extreme the Jedi were.”

“Says the Mandalorian.” Chimed in Obi-Wan with a smirk. 

“Technically, I’m not Mandalorian. I was born and raised here on Zanbar, and I don’t follow their Creed for the most part. Mir did, and he was born on Mandalore.” Bryagwen defended herself with a huff. “And even Death Watch didn’t leave children to command a siege.”

“Technically they did.” Ahsoka countered. “Bo-Katan let me take control of her forces so we could have a united front against the Shadow Collective.”

“Maker, no. None of this. You are seventeen. You should be sneaking out to spend the night with some dumb person. It’s decided. I’m your mother now. Ahsoka, go to your room and plot some teenage rebellion. Not an actual rebellion of teenagers, but something like dying your lekku pink, or getting drunk in the attic and trying to hide it from me.”

“Ugh, fine, mom.” Ahsoka shot both adults a smile before rolling her eyes, much to Obi-Wan’s amusement. She took a sip of caff then joined Bryagwen at the sink to wash her mug. 

“All joking aside, if you do have questions, ask them.” Bryagwen returned Ahsoka’s smile now, placing a hand on her shoulder to rub lightly. “I don’t mind a bit. I may not know about things specific to Togruta, if there’s anything different, but I can handle the basics.” 

“Thank you.” Ahsoka snaked an arm around Bryagwen’s waist and hugged tight. 

“Mama?” Bryshae tugged on Byragwen’s pants leg. Ahsoka released her hold so Bryagwen could pick up the young girl who quickly hugged her mother too. 

\---

Sewing machines whirred as both Bryagwen and Obi-Wan worked silently on their separate tasks. His, a simple blanket; hers, an intricate gown which needed taken in. Both children slept soundly in their respective beds while Ahsoka insisted on watching them so the adults could get work done. Bryagwen came to a stopping point in her work and decided it was time for tea. Their afternoon ritual often began like this. There was no set time, but at some point one of them would get a hankering for tea and start the water to a boil. Next, they would pick the days blend. Obi-Wan favored green, fruity teas, while Bryagwen gravitated towards black, floral leaves. Today she wanted something simple, a plain black tea with a hint of lemon and bergamot. She measured the proper amounts of dry leaves into their mugs, a sprinkling of sugar, then waited for the kettle to boil. 

Obi-Wan had been oddly quiet all morning. Perhaps he was usually this quiet and she simply didn’t notice because the noise the kids made, but she thought he was being a little too silent even with that taken into consideration. His machine slowly came to a halt as the aroma of freshly brewed tea wafted across the room. Obi-Wan glanced up at Bryagwen who watched him with a concerned set to her features. 

“Take a break.” She suggested with a small smile. Obi-Wan rolled back in his chair, stretched his legs, then stood to join her. “You seem stressed, cyare.” She lightly rubbed at his back, feeling tension come loose at her simple touch. 

“Because I am.” He admitted. “When you connected with Ahsoka, how did you do it?” She knew this conversation was bound to happen eventually, but Bryagwen truthfully didn’t know how she had accomplished the task. 

“Honestly? I’m not sure. I focused on you, on the descriptions you’d given of her, and tried to feel for her based upon you. I didn’t mean to connect. It just happened.” Bryagwen tried to recall her exact thoughts and feelings. “You just seemed so lost, so hurt. I wanted to help bring you some closure. Why?” 

Obi-Wan mulled over his words hesitantly. “Because you are largely untrained. You hadn’t possessed the discipline to truly connect with the Force until that point.” His voice faltered. “To have achieved such a connection, even with good intent, without training, points to something much darker at play. I-I fear we may be compromised.” 

“Comp- how would that compromise us?” Her eyes flitted to his, searching them for some ounce of explanation. Bryagwen hadn’t felt anything ominous in her state or connection. 

“Sith have been known to forge connections in the past. The trouble is, this could be coming from either end, yours or Ahsoka’s. With your relationship to me, and your latent talent, Maul or Anakin either one would have reason to target me. With Ahsoka’s relationship to them,as well as her involvement with Mandalore, she does as well.” He reached for her hand. “You didn’t mean to, but you inadvertently broadcast our location to anyone who can use the Force between at least here and Mandalore. Likely further.” 

His words settled for a moment on Bryagwen’s ears. She wasn’t certain she understood them quite entirely. 

“They can find the kids? And you?” She froze. “We have to leave. Get away from here before anyone tries to come for Luke or you. Oh, Maker, I fucked up.” Bryagwen melted down, sank to her knees and settled her back against the kitchenette cabinets. Obi-Wan crouched to join her, resting on his knees, and moving to face her. 

His hands brushed her dark locks away from her face while tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. He could feel the despair littering her aura. It sent shockwaves from her form. Byragwen didn’t notice this at all. Her mind was a whirl. She looked around the room for anything they would absolutely need to evacuate. As much as she would want to take her old sewing machine, it wasn’t a necessity. She could always find another somewhere else. Luke would be able to sleep in the pod for a while still, but Bryshae would need a crib or the portable one from the workshop. Bryagwen shoved Obi-Wan aside and wordlessly began breaking down the crib. The handful of toys were discarded without a care. 

“Help me with this. I can’t get the latch to release.” Obi-Wan hopped into gear to release the latch in question. He couldn’t help but watch as she jumped to action. “Thanks.” She mumbled, scanning the room for anything else that would be necessary. She spied a stack of cotton fabric. No matter where they wound up, she could make clothes for them or sell it if they needed credits. “Grab that.” she instructed, and Obi-Wan did just that. “There’s enough money in the house to get us a couple parsecs away. Would you figure out where to go while I pack the essentials?”

“Hold on a moment. We can talk this through.” He admired her springing to action, but Obi-Wan was concerned these decisions would be made rashly. 

“You knew smugglers. Have them smuggle us.” She suggested as a starting point only to receive laughter in reply. 

“We are not getting smugglers involved in this. Ahsoka has already volunteered to help us get to Mandalore where we can buy some time to get our bearings straight. Bo-Katan is on her way now with a ship to safely transport anything we need. She will be here after dark so we can depart without causing as much of a scene.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Her gaze drifted to the sewing machine again. She quickly abandoned the idea once more. It would add unnecessary weight and hinder their departure. She did grab the box of sewing essentials she always kept nearby when working. She could hand sew nearly as well as she could with the machine, and that equipment took up considerably less space. “Let’s get stuff packed.” She stated with an air of determination. Together they walked to the house preparing to say goodbye to the lives they’d known.

\---

Bryagwen glared down as the cold, harsh beskar at her feet. She’d sworn never to don it again. She hated the implication that a Mandalorian could be nothing but a fierce warrior, that they only fought for the sake of fighting. The silver glinted dully in the light cascading through the attic window. The box her armor had been carelessly tossed in had been found after an hour of searching. Mothers weren’t meant to wear beskar, weren’t meant to be combatant, but she didn’t see another option other than to put on the restrictive materials once again. 

She started with the helmet. It had always been the worst part, obscuring her vision and making her feel confined, like a firefly trapped in a child’s jar. The interface turned on immediately, scanning in the room’s schematics and inventorying her available arsenal which was nothing considering she didn’t yet have any weapons equipped. Next she strapped together the chest and back plates. With these plates online, she could equip her sen’tra, jet pack. After the pack came the shoulder and forearm pieces, equipping a small arsenal of whistling birds and other projectiles. Last were the thigh and calf guards, complete with holsters for the blasters secured in her safe downstairs. 

As far as Mandalorian standards went, Bryagwen’s armor was tame. She’d only had it crafted from her mothers for her wedding to Mir. Along with his traditional values, he wanted a traditional wedding, and she’d been perfectly happy to go along with him. Her shoulder bore the only ornamentation, the sigil of Death Watch, placed upon her at Mir’s request. As his wife, she had joined their clan, and was meant to bear the mark as such. Bryagwen pried at the sigil with her leather-clad fingers until it loosed. Death Watch had provided safety and stability for her at the time, it provided Mir with a calling, it was his way of life but never hers. She’d learned how to use the armor early on in her marriage, she’d taken combat courses at the Academy, and Mir had quickly seen her excel. The armor brought up so much heartache. As different as they’d been, Bryagwen and Mir had loved one another, they depended on the other as married couples are meant to do. He supported her pacifism despite his activism. She would help him work through different drills, make targets for practice, and always worried over him when he left for a mission. She tossed the sigil aside. No more was she a member of the Djarrin sect of Death Watch. She was first and foremost a mother who had to protect her children by whatever means necessary. The armor would allow her to do just that. In a pinch she could evacuate them via jet pack, send whistling birds or other projectiles towards danger while they got away. And, for the time being, the chest armor would protect the tiny life growing within her. 

“I never thought I would see you in beskar again.” A familiar voice interrupted her moment of turmoil. Bryagwen hadn’t heard this voice since Mir’s death when she’d been notified. “Granted, I’d only seen you wearing armor at your wedding, but Mir spoke often of how you disagreed with the cause and our beliefs as a clan.”

“If I hadn’t messed up so hugely, you wouldn’t. The armor is a protective measure, nothing more.” Bryagwen turned to face the intruder. Her voice sounded strange coming through the modulator. Bryshae would be frightened of her. The child never liked seeing those armored in the market. “Thank you for coming to help us, Bo.” She spoke directly to the blue, beskar clad woman leaning against the doorway. 

“I owe Kenobi and you both for sacrifices you’ve made. Mir paid the ultimate price to help overthrow Satine and restore Mandalore. Helping to save the life of his wife and child is the least I can do.” Bo-Katan reached out a hand to embrace Bryagwen’s forearm. Bryagwen did the same. The armor, Bo-Katan’s firm grasp, the entire situation felt foreign. If she could have crawled out of her skin then and there, she would have. 

“Still, you didn’t have to do this. If Maul returns-”

“He will be taken care of. We already have plans in place for him that Ahsoka has overseen. The only reason he’s alive now is because she had to for her survival. That won’t happen again.” Bo-Katan’s blue helmet tilted down, eyeing Bryagwen’s armor from the front this time. “The beskar is a little tight. I’ll have an armorer adjust it when we land tonight.”

“Do you think they could fashion something a bit more flexible through the chest and abdomen?” Her curiosity piqued. Bryagwen was terrified of any of her children being injured, including the most recent one. The longer she could wear her beskar, the better. Bo-Katan’s visor met with hers. 

“Dank farrik, she didn’t say you were pregnant.” Her helmet swooped down to glance at the floor. Bryagwen rocked back nervously. The pregnancy was so new. Ahsoka had likely forgotten to mention that caveat. “That changes things.” She mumbled to herself. “The plan was to have you and Kenobi work as guards in the palace. Obviously, I can’t let you do that. Do you have any sort of specialized skills we can put to use?”

“Uhm,” Bryagwen hesitated. Her only skills really involved being a housewife. Sure she’d learned much in the Academy, but that had been a decade ago. “I’ve always been a seamstress.” Her voice was small, weak. It didn’t fit the armor the voice came from. 

“That’s actually helpful. Our armorers are always looking for people to help with the leather and cape work. I’ll have my men load whatever equipment you need.” 

“Thank you, again.” Bryagwen smiled at her before realizing Bo couldn’t see the tug of her lips. She hated the armor for many reasons. Not being able to read others was one of them. 

\---

Mandalore was the pit of chaos she remembered from the Academy. Constant motion, noise, and armor-clad people zipped about their daily lives as the planet wound down for the night. Their home was a sizeable ship bayed at the palace. Bo-Katan wanted them close in case a need for a hasty departure arose. Bryagwen hated the dark inside the ship. The kids needed light from the sun and stars. She needed it. She wanted to breathe fresh air, not what managed to filter through her helmet. She wanted Bryshae to come to her for comfort, not cry because her mother suddenly frightened her beyond belief. 

They’d spent nearly two months there, hiding in plain sight. Not even a week after their departure, Bryagwen received word that her home had been torched, burned to the ground by Imperial officers. Mandalore had remained safe for the time being, but threats from the Empire were slowly trickling in as Emperor Palpatine’s influence grew in the sector. Two months was all the more time they bought by upheaving their lives, but it was two months they wouldn’t have had had they remained on Zanbar. 

Obi-Wan announced the switch to light speed. Bryagwen sat in the co-pilot’s seat, a hand on her stomach. When it was just them on the ship, she didn’t bother with the beskar. Her midsection was starting to grow with the tell-tale signs of life and with it the armor grew uncomfortable. They had another roughly five weeks of travel before making it to their destination after two weeks traveling the stars. He’d chosen a desert planet called Tattooine after much debate with Ahsoka. While Bryagwen wasn’t looking forward to sweating out the last months of pregnancy in the desert, she was looking forward to simply having a bit of earth beneath her feet again and sunlight on her cheeks. 

“Why don’t you get some rest, love? The kids have ran you ragged today.” Obi-Wan spun in his chair to face her. Bryagwen’s dark curls frizzed around her face having escaped from their bun. Her normally bright eyes were dark and lined with exhaustion. If she knew how to pilot, she’d gladly switch places with Obi-Wan. 

“I need a shower first, but the shower is full of Shae’s toys, and her toys need cleaned, but the cleaner is in the chiller because that's the only door she can’t open, but the chiller is blocked by Luke’s crib because-” 

“Get a shower. I’ll handle cleaning her bath toys once you’re done. You do too much, Gwen.”

“But, but, the ship-”

“-has autopilot at light speed. I’ll handle the toys and try to get Shae’s play area picked up. Take a nap while they’re down for a while.” He leaned to her and placed a soft, sweet kiss on her lips. 

Obi-Wan didn’t have to ask her twice. Bryagwen made her way to the fresher with clean clothes. Without appliances to wash and dry clothes, they had to make what they had stretch. She’d worn the same kute, her under-armor body suit, for three days. All she wanted was a proper shower, with clean clothes, and ground beneath her feet. She wanted her life back, the life she had with Obi-Wan before she mucked things up. 

She kicked the toys aside and hopped in the miniscule shower. She had to move quick. The hot water ran out after about ten minutes. She set to work on her hair first, working in the shampoo and massaging out the stresses of the day. 

“Hey Cody.” She mumbled softly to her ever-growing child. Obi-Wan didn’t know she’d taken to calling her by this name, but Bryagwen couldn’t handle not having a name for her daughter. Even if they changed their minds later on, she simply wanted something to refer to her as other than ‘the kid’ or ‘baby’. When they’d been fortunate to discover the gender early before leaving Mandalore, she knew immediately what she wanted to name her. With Obi-Wan’s countless stories of his best friend and right-hand-man, Bryagwen had seen it fitting to name their child after him. “We’ll make it through this, kiddo. We will, I promise.” She patted her stomach. Any day now she’d begin to feel the first movements, the first signs of life. She could use a little bit of life on this ship in the middle of the galaxy.


	7. You Show Me, I'll Show You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bryagwen's depression is fighting her with a vengeance trapped aboard a starship heading for Tattooine. Maybe Obi-Wan can cheer her up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW warning for pretty much this entire chapter. Nothing too kinky, but triggers apply for the following: inappropriate use of the Force, body worship, probably saying 'cock' too many times, creampie (yall should probably just assume this one, tbh), Obi-Wan being a tease, technically dacryphilia (crying), and cockwarming. 
> 
> Warnings apply for depictions of depression and anxiety and discussions of pregnancy as well.

Obi-Wan tidied up the ship as quietly as possible while Bryagwen showered. Each day the trip drug on, he grew more worried for her. She was quiet, tending to the children with hardly a word spoken outside of ‘Shae’ and ‘Luke’ when addressing them directly. She continually withdrew, choosing to spend time holed up alone the moment the kids went to sleep for the night. She was nauseous constantly, leaving her to eat very little despite his numerous reminders that she needed to at least try to keep something down. He didn’t know what to do, if there was anything he could do. At least at this point in their journey he would be able to rely on autopilot more frequently and lend her a hand with the kids from time to time. Hopefully that would help. 

Beneath it all, he could sense her strength of mind and will powering through. On her good days, she was all smiles, laughter, and her signature read bright signaling the truth behind the mood. Even on bad days like today had been, he could feel her determination to help her family even if it meant destroying herself. Under the worn down facade, she was still Bryagwen. He knew she would be fine in the end. 

He heard the water shut off. The sound was replaced by a gentle humming. If she was humming, that was a great sign. That meant the shower helped; she was feeling better. The fresher door opened with a soft whoosh. Bryagwen looked over her reflection in the mirror, trying to secure her hair into a braid. Obi-Wan watched with interest as her fingers worked their way through her hair, nimble and sure. She didn’t need the use of the mirror for a simple braid, but she stayed there observing her reflection just the same, a habit developed in her childhood that she’d never rid herself of. 

She couldn’t see Obi-Wan. He leaned against the wall and watched silently. It didn’t take her but a few moments to finish the braid. Her hands rested on her stomach, barely beginning to show the stirrings of life. Another wouldn’t have noticed the slight distention, but Obi-Wan knew her body like his own. He knew what could be mistaken for a bit of bloating was his child growing inside her. She’d not shown much with Bryshae, and at the rate she was progressing now Obi-Wan didn’t think she would much with this baby either, but the little changes absolutely enamored him. Her stomach, once soft and pouched, now contained a hardened barrier meant for protecting their daughter. It prevented him from feeling her movements just yet, but wouldn’t be enough in due time. Bryagwen’s hair shined under the fluorescent lights, her skin was flawless, she was beautiful. 

Bryagwen picked at some skin across her stomach, the only imperfection present. It was a bit dry due to the recycled air in the ship. His hands were drying in similar fashion. Her hand rested on the ever-so-slight bump and Bryagwen let out a sigh. He could hear the tender love layered with intense displeasure in the simple gesture. 

“What’s wrong?” His voice came out soft as freshly fallen snow as he stepped into her field of vision. 

“It’s being in this ship constantly for the most part. I’m not used to being so confined.” Bryagwen turned to face him, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. The emerald hues threatened to spill over without prompting. “And I’m constantly nauseous. Who knew space travel would make me sick so constantly? I just feel like this lump who breathes and serves tiny dictators.”

Obi-Wan closed the few feet of distance between them to embrace her. Bryagwen’s skin felt impossibly soft under his fingertips. He tried to ignore the stirring want at his core to focus on trailing his fingers across her shoulders. 

“You are beautiful, Gwen. So beautiful. You take care of the kids with a ferocity that I certainly couldn’t match if I tried, and they love you so for it. They just can’t show that love.” Her hands caught his jaw, tilting it down to meet her lips. Bryagwen nuzzled the scruff of his beard for a moment before placing a soft kiss at the juncture where his jaw and neck met. 

“Then you show me.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, laden with need. “Please. You haven’t touched me since we left Mandalore. Please, Obi. I need this. I need you.” He pushed against the sink, picking her up and sitting her on the counter before letting his lips meet hers. 

“You seemed like you wanted space. I was only trying-”

“I have never wanted space from you, and will never want it.” Her lips latched on to his neck again, sucking deep purple bruises to the skin’s surface. “Show me.” He didn’t need to be told twice. 

Obi-Wan carried her the short distance to the cockpit where they had more room. All the while Bryagwen’s hands snaked through his hair. He sat her down on the copilot’s chair so he could pull his clothes off, tossing them aside without care. 

“Maker, you are beautiful.” He commented under his breath. Bryagwen flashed a coy smile. She leaned back in the leather seat, legs spreading to give Obi-Wan a vision of how wet she already was from the unresolved tension alone, and a hand lazily tweaking her right nipple. Obi-Wan’s eyes stayed glued to her as he blindly reached for a switch which would activate a blind, keeping others from seeing into the cockpit should they encounter another traveler. 

“Show me you love me, Cyare.” She challenged him with a smirk. Obi-Wan had never been one to shy away from a challenge. 

Her legs, that’s where he started. His lips trailed beginning at her knees, nipping and kissing while his hands gripped her thighs and left feather-light skims across her clit. His beard brushed the tender skin, scraping with each movement. Then his tongue found her wet folds. His hair was suddenly fisted between her fingers as the soft muscle dipped inside her to relish in a taste that was uniquely Bryagwen. 

Obi-Wan had tasted others before her. The Duchess Satine, a handful of Jedi Acolytes who’d thrown themselves at him when he’d been in need of release, even the occasional male companion found their way to his bed. But Bryagwen was something else entirely. Her fondness for caff tinged her a bit bitter, but her equal love of fruits and nectars mellowed out the acidity with notes of honey. Since becoming pregnant she’d tasted so sweet. He could have drank her instead of tea in the afternoons everyday and been a content man. 

His tongue worked its way up to her clit, already tender with need and neglect. She needed this so badly. He was happy to oblige. Obi-Wan nipped at the bud playfully, earning a tug of his hair. 

“Now, now, darling. Be a good girl and I’ll let you cum.” He purred to her. Bryagwen fought every instinct telling her to smack him for the threat. She could make herself cum if she so chose, but she wanted him, his smart mouth, his talented tongue to do it for her. “Good girl.” He chuckled before nipping her again, this time harder, eliciting a moan from Bryagwen. “Look at you, so soaked, so keyed up, and I’ve barely touched you yet.” 

“Please, Obi. Please make me cum.” She mumbled, tugging gently at the auburn locks between her fingers. 

“How do you want to cum, love? On my lips-” his tongue shot out to envelop her clit before retracting, a tease, but a damn good one- “my fingers-” he lightly brushed her entrance with two fingers, dipping them inside to maybe his knuckle before removing them. Bryagwen whined at the loss of contact. “Or my cock?” Using the slick coating his fingers, Obi-Wan brushed his erection. 

She’d wanted his mouth before, but the way his cock bounced when he released it from his grip was enticing. It practically glistened with her slick. Bryagwen didn’t think twice. 

“I want you, Cyare. Fill me, use me, show me you love me.” Obi-Wan tested his weight on the seat unsure of its ability to hold them both. Once convinced of its integrity, he wasted no time pinning her down and bracing himself by boxing her in under him. Her knees rested on his shoulders. His cock was achingly close to her soaked core. Obi-Wan lightly kissed her legs, whispering ‘I love you’ before sheathing himself in her heat in one, swift movement. 

Bryagwen would never tire of exactly how it felt the moment Obi-Wan impaled her. She could feel the ridge of his head, the curve of his shaft, and the smattering of veins straining against the rush of blood. A soft moan would escape his lips each time, as if he were feeling her for the first time again. She supposed, after nearly a month of no intercourse, it likely did feel like the first time. His nails would dig into whatever available skin he could find and she would gasp at the sensation of it all. He would likely suck a soft bruise along her neck or jaw, marking her as his more than already evidenced by their daughter growing within her. This moment paled in comparison to only one other in regards to their coupling, and that was the rare occasion when they would reach their peaks together, his seed spilling deep within her core, her holding onto him for dear life. That moment was often met with a swear under her breath and a prayer under his. 

“You take me so well, darling.” He pulled out slowly, dragging his cock against each ripple to create friction. “It’s as if the Force created us for one another, perfectly matching for the other.” The thought had occurred to him before that the Force had done just this. The Force was a mysterious entity, ever changing and adjusting the cosmos to its liking. He could only comprehend an infinitesimal amount of its power in regards to its entirety. She moaned soft and low, nearly a growl for more movement, more words, more… something. 

“Perhaps it did. Maybe that is why I was drawn to you immediately.” Her response was breathy, an octave lower than normal. Her mind only partially focused on her words. 

“You were certainly made perfectly.” His hips snapped forward, slamming into her again. Bryagwen’s breath hitched, her eyes closed as she bit her tongue. She wanted that again. “From your beautiful eyes, filled with love and compassion for the children and I to your hands which create such beautiful works of art. Your breasts,” He gently gripped one of her breasts, taking care to roll her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, “which entrance me, nourish young Luke, and soon our own daughter.” His mouth found her other nipple, tongue brushing over the peak just long enough to tease her. “Your stunning cunt which brings both life and pleasure. Byragwen, you are simply marvelous.”

His pace had picked up. Obi-Wan struck deep within her, building a pressure Byragwen knew would burst with just the slightest bit more provocation. She snaked a hand between their bodies to her clit. With him preoccupied with her breasts and hear just so close, she added the additional measure to break the dam. Her fingers found their target, circling her clit in time with his thrusts. The pressure built more. 

“You’re so close, aren’t you, my love?” He asked tenderly. She couldn’t answer, wouldn’t answer. She just moaned while trying to meet their lips. Obi-Wan chuckled, but relented, placing a kiss so softly upon her lips. She could taste herself on him, smell it in his mustache. This tiny facet was the final straw, the last bit of stimulation she needed before the dam burst. Bryagwen cried out something unintelligible in Mando’a, earning a smile from her lover. She clung to him, tears working their way down her cheeks.She wasn’t upset, or sad, or anything negative.She was elated because she had this amazing man who would never let her forget what she meant to him, ecstatic that she was on this amazing journey with him, overwhelmed by everything that had happened to them so far, and content in having him buried between her legs as a physical expression of how he felt for her. So many emotions slammed into her faster than Obi-Wan could. She did the only thing she could think to do, cling to him as if her life depended on it and relish in the feeling of another orgasm building as his high was chased. 

It didn’t take long before his thrust lost their rhythm, before his breath was mere pants and his teeth bit into her collarbone. She mumbled to him in Mando’a, begging him to cum in her tight heat, gift her with another orgasm and let the remnants of their combined release flood her thighs. She wanted to feel him as she inevitably fell asleep when they were finished. Obi-Wan obliged, painting her walls with an exclamation of ‘Maker!’ as he did so. 

Obi-Wan set her legs down. He hadn’t noticed her crying. 

“Gwen, love, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” His voice was barely above a whisper. Obi-Wan brushed a loose strand of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His thumb brushed away the tears staining her face. She shook her head to say ‘no’. Words failed as she cried harder. He cared so much, that was evidenced by the furrow of his brows and concern etched across his eyes as they frantically scoured her frame for any explanation. She had to breathe, but couldn’t. Everything was just too much, and, Maker, did she just want to kiss him. 

Bryagwen stood. The mix of their cum seeped down her thighs, sticking to them and cooling the skin instantly. She shoved him down in the pilot’s chair. Obi-Wan’s hands flew to her face. They felt overly large compared to her jaws as she held his identically. To say Obi-Wan was shocked when she straddled him, placed her lips on his, and opened them to explore his mouth was an understatement. She couldn’t calm her mind enough to get words out, but maybe she could get her emotions across. 

They stayed in this embrace. Her hands were everywhere. They tugged on his curls, traced the scars of battles past, flitted down his abdomen feeling the soft skin of once-defined muscles that had faded in his months without need for working them regularly. Once she’d begun to ground herself, she pried slowly into him. She started with focusing on him physically, then she moved to his Force signature. He had expressed concern and confusion, but that was nothing in comparison to the turmoil radiating through the Force. She tempered it down, attempting to envelop his signature with her own.

Obi-Wan had been trained specifically against these sorts of intrusions. When he felt her meddling at the edge of his consciousness, he responded immediately by throwing up a wall. He’d been tortured at the hands of Sith in the past. The only way he knew this sort of intrusion was negatively. She persevered, pushing harder, trying her damndest to show him exactly everything she felt. Panic began to rise in his chest, but this was Byragwen. This was his wife, the love of his life, the mother of his child. She wasn’t a Sith trying to extract information from him. She loved him, and he knew there had to be s reason she was trying to hard to break through his walls. So he brought them crumbling down. 

He wasn’t prepared for how hard she’d been fighting him. She wasn’t ready for him to remove the walls so suddenly. Bryagwen crashed into Obi-Wan’s consciousness, slamming into every nook and cranny. She felt everything he did. The brush of her lips, the torturous way her heat was perched directly above his cock, but most of all she felt his concern for the entire situation. Bryagwen adjusted her straddle to impale herself on him, relishing in the slow drag of his thick length as she bounced softly. She moved just enough to feel him twitch with need, with want for more. 

She could focus now, her head clearing as she adjusted to things. Bryagwen had influenced emotions and actions in others, but never had she attempted a breach this strong. She could fiddle with their connection. It burned strong and steady. She could strum it like a stringed instrument, make it sing her praises of the moaning mess of a man beneath her. She could add pressure, bringing him to the precipice before dragging him back again. Her tears had long dried now as she strung him along, demonstrating her immense gratitude for him and everything he was to her. 

Obi-Wan understood everything. He pushed back, falling into her consciousness. Everything about her was so bright, warm, and shouted intimacy in some shape or form. She’d encountered such deep despair in her life, but also sheer joy in amounts unquantifiable. She cried not because of any sort of sadness, but for uncontrollable, unsurmountable elation. Bryagwen was his entirely, he was hers, and together they burned as a newly born star. 

When they came down, neither were certain how much time had passed. They’d been lost in the other and in the Force for so long. Byragwen was exhausted. She remained perched on his lap, cock buried deep inside her, slowly softening after a final release with her head resting against his chest. Obi-Wan softly unbraided her hair and brushed the waves with his fingers far too spend to even consider moving. 

“Obi, I love you.” She mumbled softly as his hands tangled in her hair, a final sentence before drifting off to a dreamless sleep. It took Obi-Wan a moment to realize she’d spoke. He kissed the top of her head. 

“I love you too, Gwen.” He let out a soft sigh. “And that’s exactly why I have to leave you.”


	8. Stronger Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all!   
> This is just sort of a filler chapter. I've rewritten it like 3 times, so hopefully it doesn't suck. I'm in a bit of a bad patch at the moment, so things are suffering, my writing among them. On top of the holidays and general depression, the anniversary of my sister's death is coming up soon, and I have to put one of my cats down down tomorrow. Plus, my husband I are starting marriage counseling next week, and I start a new job in a couple weeks. There's just a ton going on, and I know my writing is suffering, but I still want to write to avoid everything else. 
> 
> Idk, I just needed some fluff and cutesy Bryshae stuff. Obi-Wan leaving is addressed here, so there's that. 
> 
> If anyone is a fan of The Mandalorian, go check out my other fic, Beskar Bracelet. It's a oneshot starring Cody Kenobi. :)

Tattooine was dry, acrid, hot, and outright miserable. Bryagwen hadn’t seen more than her little corner of the galaxy consisting of Zanbar and Mandalore, but even she knew that Mos Eisley was not the place for a woman or children to venture alone regardless of the myriad shuffling about as they unloaded the ship. She was hesitant to let her line of vision leave Bryshae or Luke for more than a second, but relented. Someone had to strap down their belongings to the speeder as Obi-Wan loaded more. 

The journey had been uneventful, with only two stops throughout for refueling. She’d relished those stops, taking time to journey into the sun on both occasions and purchase a handful of fresh fruits for herself and Bryshae. Standing beneath the twin suns, she couldn’t help but wonder why she had craved sunlight so much. Maybe she’d developed a Vitamin D deficiency, or maybe it was just one more thing she’d become homesick for. Whatever the case, she suddenly regretted ever wishing for more.

Obi-Wan had explained the rationale in picking Tattooine. Anakin had enough bad history here, even with his transition to the dark, he wouldn’t want to return and face the reminders of weakness. Here, he’d been a slave. Somewhere outside the city on a moisture farm stood his mother’s gravestone, her body long decayed, and even further than the farm stood a desolate camp full of natives prior to Anakin’s onslaught. His pure reaction of grief and anger had destroyed an entire tribe of Tusken Raiders. A blood crest carved of that magnitude wasn’t likely to draw the carver back. The rush of emotion would be enough to make the most balanced of people think twice about returning. 

Tattooine’s location on the Outer Rim was ideal for hiding as well. It’s where those who wanted to evade the Republic had fled, and where those currently fleeing the Empire would find in due time. The planet was a wasteland of desert with the occasional oasis controlled by the Hutts. Bryagwen didn’t like the idea of living somewhere under the thumb of gangs, but they luckily owed Obi-Wan a favor from several years prior that he was cashing in now. He’d once saved Jabba’s child; it was Jabba’s turn to save his children, and Jabba had agreed that the terms were agreeable. They’d have a small home on the outskirts of Mos Eisley, fall under the Hutt’s protection, and would be treated as citizens of Tattooine in exchange for Obi-Wan’s occasional work as a mercenary and Bryagwen’s as Jabba’s personal seamstress. They were encouraged to pursue other opportunities, bring business to Mos Eisley if possible. All in all, Bryagwen was astounded by their luck here. 

Obi-Wan had given the ship to Jabba as a show of goodwill. It wasn’t much, an older Razor Crest model in need of several repairs, but his men had greedily jumped on the chance to add a ship to their fleet. She strapped the last of their belongings to the speeder, double checking the ratcheting to make sure it was properly latched, then smiled at Obi-Wan. They were ready to make their way to their new home. 

She climbed in the speeder, huffing a bit as Cody decided then was the perfect time to lunge into her lungs. The girl was incredibly active, more than Bryshae had ever been. Lunges like this happened more often than Bryagwen cared to admit as Cody grew. She was beginning to get cramped. With roughly six weeks left until she was due to be born, Bryagwen fully expected lots of movement with harsh jumps. Her favorite activity as of late had been stretching her little limbs in opposite directions, sprawling as far as possible within the confines of her mother. Unfortunately, this almost always rendered Bryagwen unable to move for a moment or two as she caught her breath and patted her stomach to prompt Cody to resume a more comfortable (for her mother, anyway) position.They went through their routine. Obi-Wan smiled across the speeder, leaning over to pat her stomach lightly. 

“Now, little one, be nice to your mother.” He chided, speaking in a voice sweeter than any sugar could hope to be. This only seemed to excite Cody who jumped again, this time sprawling out, one of her limbs shoving along Bryagwen’s abdomen to meet Obi-Wan’s hand. His eyes lit, sparkling with a fire Bryagwen saw all too often as Cody’s due date approached. 

“Mama?” Piped in Bryshae from the backseat, harnessed securely for her safety until they arrived at their new home. “Mama baby!” She smiled at her parents, reaching little hands up to meet theirs. Bryagwen reached back to her, entwining their fingers. 

“That’s right, Shae. Mama has a baby.” She responded, flashing a smile back to Bryshae. 

“Baby Uke?” She mumbled, struggling to say ‘Luke’ as they’d recently begun working on his name. Obi-Wan shifted the speeder to drive and began their trek to the house. 

“Not Luke, Shae. Mama has a different baby.” She stifled a laugh as confusion crossed Bryshae’s face. Her little eyes scrunched up in concentration, bringing out the undertones of hazel in her normally deep green irises. 

“Uh-huh. Mama baby Cody!” She shouted, smiling, clearly proud of herself for remembering something Bryagwen had mentioned offhand a week prior to the young girl. “Baby Cody here yet?” She asked, another smiled coming across her face as Obi-Wan’s eyes shot over to meet Bryagwen’s.

They hadn’t yet decided on a name. In truth, Obi-Wan didn’t have a preference. He’d never imagined a life with a wife and child. He had always assumed his life would be lived fighting the good fight on behalf of the Jedi Order. But to hear that name, well, he hadn’t exactly been expecting it. 

“No, baby. Cody will be here in a few weeks.” Bryagwen nodded a small accent to Obi-Wan. 

“Hug baby Cody?”

“You can give Cody all the hugs you want once she’s here, alright, Bryshae?” Obi-Wan called back to the toddler. Bryshae seemed to like this answer. She smiled at her parents, then to Luke in the seat next to hers. The parents could hear her babbling over the engine to Luke, who happily babbled back. 

Obi-Wan and Bryagwen sat in silence for a few minutes enjoying the din of the engine paired with Bryshae and Luke’s conversations. They sounded content. 

“I take it you picked out a name.” Obi-Wan finally broke the silence, extending a hand to Bryagwen’s resting on the middle console. “Cody would have loved you, you know. Your kindness and bite, he would have found you stunning. He would have made the best uncle, too, teaching the kids to have fun in ways I could never dream of.” He paused, lost in thought while a thousand memories reeled across his eyes. “There is no better way to honor him.” He conceded, smiling bright. 

Bryagwen couldn’t help the grin creeping up on her lips. She’d initially called Cody ‘Cody’ as a filler, just something other than ‘baby’ to use in reference. The title had sort of taken on a life of its own as she began to move about, earning the occasional cursing of her name from her mother. To have Obi-Wan’s blessing on the name was of great importance to Bryagwen. 

“Just, if you ever happen to meet other clones, maybe don’t mention that her last name is Kenobi. There were enough rumors about the two of us as it was. I suppose they technically weren’t rumors if there was some truth to them, but the premise still stands.” Bryagwen snorted. Of course Mr. Jedi Order Poster Child slept with his clone commander. 

“Was there anyone involved in the Order that you didn’t sleep with at some point?” Bryagwen shot back, earning an indignant huff from her husband. 

“We never technically slept together, just the occasional helping hand when one of us needed to blow off steam before a mission.” His eyes rolled before refocusing on the sand ahead. In the distance he sighted a small house, more of an out-building really, but it was to be their home. It was equipped with electric, plumbing, and access to a few, local news channels on the holonet. The building was a far cry from what they were used to, but it could be worked on. In time, they could make it their home. “We’ll be there in a few moments.” Obi-Wan commented as Bryagwen noticed the small house. She couldn’t wait to get out of the sun. 

\---

It only took a day to get the house settled. They’d brought so few possessions along they didn’t have much to worry about. The home had two floors, a main floor and a basement. The main floor had three rooms. The first was a spacious (compared to the rest of the house) livingroom with built-in kitchen. There wasn’t room for a proper table, or even decent counter space aside from the sparse counters surrounding the sink and range. The living room would hold a sofa and maybe a chair once they began to accumulate more toys and such for the kids. Next was the master bedroom joined by a refresher connecting to the next bedroom. Truth be told, Bryagwen suspected it had all been one room at some point. It would be tight, but they would be able to squeeze cribs and beds in the quarters for now. The basement only supported three-quarters of the house, with a space for laundering clothes and an empty room. Once the kids were big enough, they’d be moved to the basement to make room for her sewing equipment. For now, Obi-Wan lugged the heavy machinery down the steps. 

By nightfall everything was in place. Luke and Bryshae had been bathed and laid down for the night. Bryagwen stretched across the empty floor in their bedroom making mental plans to find a market and purchase a bed for the two of them the next day. Surely Mos Eisley had some sort of furniture merchant somewhere. Obi-Wan laid out blankets, layering them atop one another to provide some form of comfort from the duracrete floor for the night. 

“Maker, I’m exhausted.” groaned Bryagwen when he was finished and they were finally able to lay with the other. “I did nothing, and I’m exhausted.”

“You watched our heathen children while one crawled all over the place and the other climbed on everything. How did she even get on top of the chiller earlier?” 

“I turned my back for about two seconds to keep Luke from tumbling down the stairs. Your guess is as good as mine.” She tried to roll to her side to face him, but couldn’t. Laying this flat on the floor at seven and a half months pregnant made that incredibly difficult. A frustrated groan left Bryagwen’s lips as she balled her fists. 

“First thing in the morning we are going back to Mos Eisley for baby gates.” Obi-Wan suggested. He rolled to face her instead. 

“Agreed.” She huffed. Bryagwen wanted to sleep. She wanted to shower off and sleep for a week. As Luke grew more mobile, she grew less so. He was in the early stages of walking now at nearly nine months old. It would be some time before he could accomplish the task with success, but the boy tried with all his might to copy his sister. 

Obi-Wan brushed a stray piece of hair away from her face. 

“After you’re settled, though-” he took a deep breath. Bryagwen scanned his face hoping it would betray whatever his next words would be. The tone to his voice and the way he hid away his signature meant something. She wasn’t sure what, but she was certain it couldn’t be good. “-we need to talk.”

“Or, we can just talk now. It will be a few days before things are really settled, and I don’t have the emotional capacity right now to carry around that anxiety.”

“If you insist.” Obi-Wan rolled to his stomach and propped his chest up on his forearms. “It’s not safe for you or the children to have me around. Ahsoka contacted me a few weeks back, she and I are among the few remaining Jedi who survived the order. The Empire has mounted a full-scale inquisition to find us, and to exterminate any force-sensitives they find along the way.” His words were blunt, to the point, but Bryagwen appreciated the direct approach. 

She’d sensed something coming for weeks. He’d been elusive, guarding his signature in moments he could feel her looking in on him. She’d chalked it up to nerves. They had been forced to move across the galaxy with two children in a small ship not designed for lengthy travel. She’d been moody, something she blamed on a combination of hormones and her regular bouts of melancholy. He’d had so much responsibility thrust upon him, it made sense for him to distance much as she had initially. Words spiraled through her head, rattling around until the right sentence formed.

“If you truly believe that your leaving is the best option, then go.” She took a deep breath and slowly sat up, careful not to move too quickly and wake Cody who had blessed her with a moment’s reprieve from the internal gymnastics she normally practiced. “Just wait until after Cody is born and I’ve had time to heal. I can’t defend her, or Shae, or Luke until then. I’ll be able to wear my beskar again.”

“Gw-” He began to interrupt, jolting up to sit beside her, see eye to eye.

“I’m speaking.” Her voice dripped with a venom that he hadn’t quite expected. Her prior statement had been so calm and collected. This was a snap. Obi-Wan probed out to feel her signature briefly. 

Bryagwen was nearly always a bright warmth, even at her worst moments in the cold expanse of the galaxy, she’d been the brightest star. Her facade was calm, emotionless. Her signature betrayed her. It burned, nearing an inferno, then snapped cold as ice. She was furious, rightfully so. She slammed against him, throwing a mental wall up to keep him from seeing the turmoil within. Obi-Wan’s signature was forced into retreat quick enough he lost his breath, gasping momentarily. 

“You can say something when I’m done, got it?” He nodded. “Good. For now, sit there and listen.” Her emotionless exterior resumed. “If you leave, you’d best stay gone. I won’t have some man who drops into my life whenever it's convenient for him around my children, and they are just that, MY children, all three, if you leave. And when the Empire eventually finds us, and I can’t defend them half as well as you could have, you can live with the guilt that you, effectively, killed them by abandoning them when they needed you most. Because they do need you. Not just for protection, but because they love you, and I will never forgive you if you break their hearts.” She stopped to breathe, inhaling deeply. “I’ve already lost one husband. I’d resigned myself to raising a child alone. I’ll do it again.”

Quiet fell over them long enough Bryagwen almost wondered if Obi-Wan had fallen asleep. She knew better. She could hear his breathing, sense each beat of his heart. He was silent still. 

“They’re looking for me, not you.” He whispered. “I just want to prot-”

“Leaving us to struggle is not protection. Leaving us undefended is not protection. A single mother with three kids is the primary target of crime, let alone when at least one of her kids and she herself can manipulate the Force while literal Inquisitors are scouring the Galaxy.”

The full reality of her words crashed into him as she let down the wall. Obi-Wan hadn’t been prepared for the miasma of emotion hiding behind. There was still fury lingering on the edges of everything, but it was cold. Frozen beneath layers of grief, betrayal, anxiety, but most of all was disappointment. Shadows hung on her signature, cloaking the ebony notes of hurt with a fog of distress. Tinges of light broke through the shadows and fog, her usual love and kindness were still there, hiding, cowering behind the anger. It was nauseating.

“I will not be responsible for their deaths. It will be you.” She spoke aloud, her voice cracking. “With so much loss you weren’t able to prevent, through no fault of your own, a-are you really willing to ch-chance the lives of more innocents, more children that you could protect?” Her signature was cracking, giving way to something deeper. It was dark, perhaps an indigo in hue. Hurt, he realized with a pang as her words really dug into him. “If you leave, you leave completely. If you stay, we can pretend that this never happened, and go back to our lives. The choice is yours.” 

Her shoulders shook violently as she cried, letting out the hurt through sobs. The last thing she wanted was for him to leave, but she needed him to know the terms if he did. She laid it all out. 

“Maker, how could I leave you?” His hand embraced her jaw, thumb wiping away the tears staining her cheeks. “I’ll stay, if you can forgive me for being such a brainless halfwit. I was so consumed by the idea that leaving would protect you, I hadn’t considered the opposite.” 

“You’re far from brainless, Cyare.” She offered a half-hearted smile. “We are stronger together, something you are still not used to.” Her hands found his jaw and brought his forehead and lips to meet hers. Bryagwen smiled on his lips. “I’ve come a long way since you started training me with the Force. Maybe it’s time we look to combat training, once Cody is born, obviously.” 

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to smile on her lips. 

“It would be an honor, though this does officially make you my Padawan.”

“Does that make you my Master, then?”

“Darling, I will be anything you want me to be if only you call me Master under the right circumstances.” Oh, now that was a thought Bryagwen definitely hadn’t entertained. 

“Then tell me, Master Kenobi,” She emphasized his title, “how do you suggest we reconcile this little spat then?”

“Well, my beautiful Padawan,” Bryagwen’s breath caught in her throat. This was new. This was very new. His hands traced down her sides, pausing on her hips. “I suggest we get some sleep and save our energy to break in a new bed tomorrow night.” She tried to argue, but couldn’t. A yawn escaped her lips. 

“Tomorrow night then? You promise, Master?”

“Kriff yes.” He mumbled, pulling aside the top blanket for them to lay underneath. “I never understood the entire Master/Padawan thing until now.” He admitted as she took her normal spot curled up to his chest, her head resting over his heart. “But now all I can think about is you sliding a robe off your shoulders because you’ve done poorly during training and require punishment.”

“If you actually want to sleep, shut up now.” Obi-Wan promptly ended his trail of thought. They were both exhausted from the day. Rest was non-negotiable. “Sweet dreams, Master.” She whispered as he was on the edge of sleep. Bryagwen didn’t even try to stifle the laugh when he lazily smacked the back of her head. 

“You’ll regret that, darling.” 

“Oh, you think I intend on anything else now that I know you have a thing for this?” She smiled. “Master.” She tacked on as an afterthought. 

“Just you wait, Gwen.” As she smiled he smirked. He fully intended on holding true to his promise.


	9. Cody Kenobi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan suffers from some minor PTSD when his anxiety surrounding Cody's birth gets to be too much, but Bryagwen balances him (sorta). Cody is finally born!

They settled easily enough over the next couple weeks. Obi-Wan struggled to build their furniture despite rather detailed directions. 

“I was a general. I orchestrated battles beyond comprehension. I will figure out how to build this blasted bed frame.” He grumbled under his breath, tucking a screwdriver behind his ear to grab the directions again. 

“Are you sure you don’t want my help, Cyare?” Bryagwen had asked. She sat a fresh cup of tea down on the table beside him.

“Quite.” He fumed. “I’ve just got to figure out how to connect these pieces and the rest will fall in line.” Bryagwen glanced at the screwdriver and tried not to laugh. She spied a cross-shaped head to the tool then noted the screws Obi-Wan holding bore a single slash. 

“It may help if you used the right tools.” She commented easily, passing him the proper screwdriver for the job. If he responded, she didn’t hear him. 

Then came building the new crib. It barely fit in the room with their bed, but they’d made it work. Instead of a stationary crib like the older kids were in, Byragwen had opted for another pod like Bryshae’s. Cody wouldn’t grow out of it until Bryshae was growing out of her current bed. They could simply shuffle the girls around then. The pod’s base sat still at Bryagwen’s side of the bed, perfectly within arm’s reach for when Cody inevitably made her appearance. For the time being, Shae used the base as a step to her parent’s bed and Luke held onto the sides to bounce wildly while his sister taunted him from above. Shae’s dark curls would toss back in laughter. Luke’s blond locks would smack against the mattress side as he cried, jealousy lacing the tones. 

Next was furnishing the kitchen. They’d been lucky to have appliances included in the house, but no furniture. Bryagwen found a small table in the market one morning. It would seat only four, but they wouldn’t need the extra seats for some time still. Then came the living room. Instead of furnishing the room as she had back on Zanbar, she decided to dedicate this space to her children. They hadn’t brought many toys or personal items with them from home. The room was sparse for now, but she would soon fill it with tell-tale signs of a children’s play space. 

The building was small, measuring maybe fifteen-hundred square feet total, but it was theirs. Bryagwen was proud of what they’d accomplished in the few weeks on Tattooine. Their house was quickly becoming their home. Everyone fell into a routine easily. They rose with the suns and fell with the rise of the stars. The kids played until their hearts were content and their mother watched on, working up piece after piece already being requested of her from those entombed at Jabba’s Palace. 

Last was Cody’s birth itself. Even in Mos Eisley there was no medical facility equipped to deal with anything more than a basic infection. Bryshae’s birth had been simple. A bit of medication to ease her pain, a few stitches to repair damage, and a soak in a bacta bath had Bryagwen back to normal within a matter of days. If anywhere on Tattooine even had a bacta bath, she would have been floored. In a snap, they could travel to Mos Espa for something resembling modern medicine, but it was still nothing compared to the care on Mandalore, and definitely archaic compared to the standards Obi-Wan was used to on Coruscant. Their plan now was to simply let things play out as the Force willed them to, and hope for the best possible scenario. It would take weeks for her to heal properly, assuming nothing happened which would compromise the delivery. 

Bryagwen was terrified. Obi-Wan had never been witness to a live birth. When Padme gave birth to Luke and Leia, he’d been outside the room guarding the woman as her life force was drained. He had a rudimentary understanding of how the process worked, but knew precious little about any specifics. If anything went wrong, even the slightest hitch, he would be flying by the seat of his pants and relying on instinct. Bryagwen’s only solace here was his deep knowledge of emergency aid. He’d been through enough battles, seen his fair share of injuries, and had a solid head on his shoulders. If he could just keep her alive long enough for a midwife or rural doctor to help, they just might have a chance. Due to this, they never parted for more than a few minutes. It seemed her due date approached quicker with each passing day. For as frightened as she was, Obi-Wan was ten-fold. 

His nights were plagued by terrors, images of both mother and daughter perishing while he held them, unable to save them no matter what measures he attempted. “Remember my dear Obi-Wan, I loved you always… I always will.” Echoes of his past tinged his present. Flashes of Satine limp against his chest were replaced by Bryagwen; blond rings turned to flaxen; a clean, saber wound to endless blood coming from seemingly nowhere and everywhere at once. He’d held his heart, watched it die in front of him once already. To see it happen again would destroy him. Satine’s words morphed into Bryagwen’s voice, taking on her more primitive accent from Zanbar. “Kar’taylir darasuum, Obi-Wan.” Gwen’s words, Gwen’s voice, and an infant’s cry beneath. 

He hadn’t slept properly in a month. Not without waking in tears, frantically searching the bed for Bryagwen, feeling out for her signature with his and focusing on Cody’s bright aura within. Obi-Wan would do anything to save her. Well, almost anything. Turning to the dark as Anakin had wasn’t an option, but he certainly understood his Padawan’s actions now more than ever. 

The sleepless nights presented him with ample opportunities to reflect on his past. Bryagwen would sleep peacefully at his side, a reward he didn’t feel he deserved for letting Anakin down so severely. How hadn’t he seen this turmoil? Or felt it at the very least? The very thought of Bryagwen perishing had taken hold of his mind entirely. No matter how well he tried to hide his worry, she managed to sniff it out every day. 

How had he paid such little attention to his Padawan when he was most needed? Had he spent so much time tied up in the politics of the Jedi Council that he shoved Anakin away? Or was he simply too busy to be bothered with his protegee? The war had taken Anakin away from him as Padawan and Master far too soon; assigned Anakin his own Padawan at too young an age. The need for trained Jedi generals never should have outweighed the need for well-developed Jedi Knights. He’d maintained that train of thought from the very start, but was overruled by the council. In hindsight, he realized those actions had been deliberate from Palpatine. The demands of the Senate had to be met one way or another. Their hands had been forced. His hand had been forced. 

Obi-Wan spent his days in a slog trying to make sure things were perfect in case Code decided to arrive early. At least, that was the excuse he gave any time Bryagwen questioned him. In reality he couldn’t handle the idea of thinking during his waking moments as he did during his resting ones. He wasn’t positive he could cope with that much stress on his system. The house was in pristine condition. He’d repaired an old protocol droid he’d found in the basement to help with their day to day lives. He’d managed to assemble a small playground for Bryshae to use in the evenings as the suns set out of old pod racer parts. He couldn’t stop. If he did, he was overwhelmed. 

When he’d taken on Luke, he’d been through so much trauma in the course of forty-eight hours that he’d dissociated and not felt the fear until they were fifteen parsecs away from Coruscant and nearing Zanbar. He’d been betrayed by his most trusted allies; he’d dismembered his Padawan, leaving him for dead to save the lives of Padme and the twins; he’d discovered countless bodies of slaughtered younglings, padawans, and masters in the temple. When the hospital approached him asking who should take custody of the twins, Luke seemed like just one more log on the pyre of his life. It took weeks before his actions, and those of others, truly sat in. 

It had never been anxiety for him, but post-traumatic stress. He’d risen in the nights to check on the children, ensuring they still breathed. He would triple check locks, feel for the kyber of his saber in proximity, and pace the floors. He cried when memories would flash before his eyes. He fought Bryagwen’s every attempt to talk through his emotions until he was ready. But his emotions now were a whole other beast. 

As a Jedi, Obi-Wan had been discouraged from ever really knowing his emotions. They lead to irrational decisions and were a path to the dark side, or so said his elders. Qui-Gon had often preached a different narrative, claiming that emotions were the living Force influencing your signature. It was how you chose to cope with those emotions that made the difference between a truly light or dark Force-user. After Satine, Obi-Wan had simply shut down. Her death hadn’t been the will of the Force, but the will of one, sadistic man bent on revenge. Guilt had gnawed away at him, eating him alive. Shutting his emotions out was the only viable option. Between the war, Anakin’s struggles, and his own struggles, Obi-Wan didn’t possess the ability to manage the torrent he would have felt otherwise. He’d blocked out the parts of him receptive to emotion then, but found himself unable to now. 

As a father, he was finding it impossible to shut down. Blocking out emotions meant forcing all of them away, even the positive ones. He wasn’t willing to sacrifice the laughter and smiles Bryshae and Luke brought daily. They were the brightest stars in the entire galaxy to him. To be devoid of emotion would deprive them of the father they needed and deserved. He wouldn’t be able to react properly to their desires. His children needed him, as did his wife. 

His emotions now were complex. While he knew the likelihood of Bryagwen perishing was low, there were things that could just go wrong. If Cody was positioned wrong, or her shoulders were too broad, delivery would be incredibly difficult on Gwen. Without medicine, it would be painful, and he blamed himself for every bit of pain she would have to suffer. If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be in this position at all. She wouldn’t be pregnant on a desert planet in the Outer Rim without access to medical care. Everything had happened because of him. He’d crashed into her life, and now she may die because birth is a horrid process for humans. 

But he couldn’t help but be excited. They’d created a life together! A tiny, miniscule life that was half her and half him. Cody was proof of their union and of the love they shared, proof that not all emotions were a path to the dark and that just maybe Qui-Gon had been right. Her creation had been the will of the Force without a doubt in Obi-Wan’s mind. Something so pure, so light and beautiful was evidence that the Force existed beyond his abilities to manipulate it. He was ecstatic. He rejoiced at this chance to be a father, to deliver his own daughter, and be there for her every step of her life. He just hoped he wouldn’t muck it up too much. 

His only experience in this arena was with Anakin, and, well, that had turned out horribly. Bryagwen frequently reminded him that he hadn’t been Anakin’s father, but his mentor. Obi-Wan hadn’t been there for Anakin’s early years, which were most vital in developing who a person would become. His Padawan had been a slave, treated as such, and was raised surrounded by darkness. He never could have planned on Sith preying on the darkness already residing within Anakin to play on those traits present from such a harsh upbringing. Bryagwen tried relentlessly to remind him of this. There was nothing Obi-Wan could have done which would have changed things. 

Obi-Wan tried to remain excited for their future. The outlook was optimistic. His wife was radiant, absolutely glowing with life. Her stomach protruded more now than ever, causing her discomfort and pain, but basking her in beauty incomparable. Her force signature shown more brightly than he believed possible, and Cody’s signature became more defined as each day passed. It was bright, layered with notes of orange like her mother and undertones of blues like her father. Obi-Wan knew before the child was born that she would be her mother made over just as Bryshae presented much as her father (Mir) and Luke as Padme. Their auras were simply too similar. 

He could not wait to meet Cody, to know her as more than a piece of Bryagwen. Would she have Gwen’s flaxen curls or his auburn locks? Gwen’s emerald irises, his more teal, bordering on blue, or would she have some combination of the two? Would her cheeks have a smattering of freckles as she aged as her mother did? Any oddly shaped birthmarks? Would she inherit either parent’s ability to use the Force? If she did, would that be a path she chose to pursue? What color kyber would resonate with her? There was a whole galaxy’s worth of possibilities in this one child, and he was enamored with her already. 

It seemed fitting that Cody would decide to enter the galaxy under the cover of night. Bryagwen had warned Obi-Wan for about a week that she would be coming soon enough. Her movements had slowed, Bryagwen grew more tired, then the pain started. It began softly, practice contractions, nothing out of the ordinary. Until Bryagwen noticed a pattern to them while going about her daily activities. The kids were occupied in their playroom, so she sat down for a while to meditate among them. She focused on Cody’s bright signature. It seemed fuzzy, uncertain. Something was off. Then the pain came back, radiating softly outward from her pelvis and Cody’s signature threw a series of confusion and excitement. She was ready. She was coming. 

Bryagwen continued her daily routine. There was little use in laying around waiting. Cody would come in her own time, and the other two still needed tending to. Bryagwen tried to hide her discomfort from Obi-Wan. She didn’t want him fretting over her needlessly during the early hours of labor. With so much uncertainty surrounding this delivery, she wanted just a few more hours of the same. Her son and daughter may not have a mother come morning. She wanted this one last day with them in the event the unthinkable happened, and either her or Cody, or both, were lost. 

Obi-Wan figured out something was going on quickly enough. Try as she might, Bryagwen couldn’t mask her signature well enough from him. He could sense her discomfort as it transitioned to pain and decided to approach her then. Something was wrong, this much he was certain. He caught her taking in a deep breath while leaning over the kitchen table, arms braced against the wood and knuckles nearly white late that evening after the kids had been laid down for the night. 

“Darling, what’s wrong?” He pulled a chair behind her knees and lowered her onto it. Bryagwen grimaced at the idea of sitting down just now. The contractions were easier standing and moving, but she knew it would ease his worries if she did, so she acquiesced. 

“Nothing is wrong, just labor pains.” She explained a bit more bluntly than intended. Obi-Wan’s eyes widened immediately, a flush set across his cheeks and Bryagwen saw the immediate panic seep into his frame. He froze, one hand resting on her shoulder the other holding a mug of caff. “You may want to brew some more of that. We’re in for a long night.” She laughed, reaching a hand up to the one on her shoulder and rubbed his knuckles lightly. 

“Has this been happening all day?” The mug sat down with a small splash of caff onto the table top. Obi-Wan yanked out another chair and collapsed. 

“Sort of. It started with practice contractions this morning, but transitioned to real ones a couple hours ago.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” He sounded betrayed. Bryagwen supposed that she had betrayed him in a way, but her reasonings were pure.

“Labor is a long process. It took nearly twenty-four hours with Shae. I just wanted to get some work done and knew you’d want me to sit in bed the entire time.” She hesitated. Should she divulge her other rationale? 

“I feel there’s more to this.” The panic was beginning to leave his face. Obi-Wan took a sip from his mug. His caff was a little too warm still, but cool enough to stomach. 

“There is.” She paused, her voice fluttering as pain began to build once more. This time the pressure dissipated quickly, granting her voice return easily. “Without medical care close, I’m terrified. I just wanted one final day with Shae and Luke in case things go poorly.” Her voice broke. Bryagwen really was frightened. She didn’t doubt Obi-Wan’s ability to care for her or Cody for a second. She knew he would do absolutely anything possible to save them both. She also knew that birth was a dangerous process under ideal circumstances. The entire situation was just horrifying. “I-I just-” her voice cracked as she started crying, a knot in her throat forming rapidly, “-just wanted a day of normal.”

She didn’t notice Obi-Wan sitting down his mug or pulling his chair next to hers. She barely registered his arms pulling her shoulders tight in his embrace but she did recognize the strong beat of his heart beneath the cotton shirt her face was pressed to. Bryagwen tried to breathe in, stumbling over her lungs and coughing instead. She’d been so afraid, so nervous, and it was all piling on her now. 

“Shh, shh, easy, Love.” He whispered softly, barely audible over Gwen’s sobs. Obi-Wan’s hands drew idle patterns across her shoulders. “It’ll be alright, I promise.” His lips pressed softly along the top of her head. Her signature was a mess. Normally so bright and content it had darkened and shot out with pain. Instead of oranges and yellows, Obi-Wan could see tints of purple tinging her, a sure sign of the dread sweeping her frame. “I’m here. I’ll be here for everything. I’ll take care of you both, I swear.” 

Bryagwen tried to breathe deeply again. This time she managed to suck down the much needed oxygen. Her tears began to quell slightly. Obi-Wan could always calm her. His scent, lavender and mint and a musk unique to him was both sedative and aphrodisiac to her depending on the circumstance. His hands on her shoulders rubbed softly and Cody wiggled contentedly. Though she was in turmoil, Bryagwen could feel the calm around them. The Force weighed them down, but not with any omens of ill-will. She felt positivity, serenity, and most of all, hope. Her eyes opened, scanning the room. This had to be coming from somewhere. From Obi-Wan, or someone else. She had to figure it out. This wasn’t just the Force, but something else.

“You sense it too?” A smile crept on his lips. “Gwen, the Force is with us. You and Cody are going to be just fine.” He kissed the top of her head again. “Maker, I haven’t felt the Force this strong. Not even on Mustafar.” Bryagwen leaned away from him to observe his features. Obi-Wan’s eyes were electric, lighting up akin to a flame. 

“It’s Cody.” Her voice was soft in disbelief. “Cody is drawing the Force in like this.” Bryagwen didn’t know how she knew, but she could sense Cody’s signature wavering strong under the massive presence around them. “She’s telling us it will be okay.” Obi-Wan reached a hand down to Bryagwen’s abdomen.

“Little one, I cannot wait to meet you.” His smile was widening, stretching from ear to ear. “I have so much to teach you. Maybe you can teach me a thing or two, too.”

\---

Bryagwen was exhausted. Exhausted was an understatement. She was something far past exhaustion. She’d met exhaustion, greeted it, then turned around and came back. Now she was passed out with Cody curled up in her arms, the infant’s head pressed to her mother’s chest and Bryagwen’s hair splayed out on the pillows behind them wildly. Obi-Wan cleaned up the room. Bryagwen had the forethought to have him lay down plenty of extra towels on the bed and floor. He was thankful for her suggestion now. It likely saved their mattress. He finished cleaning and simply stared at Cody.

She had dark, auburn hair like him. In the few minutes her eyes had been open, Obi-Wan had spied deep blue irises. They were likely to change over time, but they were beautiful as they were. She was beautiful. Cody was everything he ever could have imagined. She was so small, smaller than Luke had been, but her size didn’t diminish the flame already burning bright within her. Cody’s signature could have lit the world during the darkest night. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if such a strong signature was normal. He’d never spent time among newborns, but he had a feeling she was something special. Cody was meant to accomplish great things in her life. 

“You can hold her, you know.” Bryagwen slurred, still trapped in sleep. “Take your shirt off. The skin contact will help her bond.” The dazed mother carefully leaned up with Cody held closely between her breasts. Obi-Wan removed his shirt, stained and in need of a good laundering from the night’s events, tossed it with the basket of soiled towels and joined them on the bed. “Besides, I really need to pee, and that’s gonna take a few minutes, so I sort of need you to hold her.”

“The water bottle you wanted is sitting on the sink.” He commented while carefully placing a hand under Cody’s neck to support the newborn.

“Vor’e!.” She replied sleepily, thank you.

It took Bryagwen a minute to get off the bed and mosey to the bathroom. Her abdominal muscles and lower back were shot from labor. Just getting out of bed, a seemingly simple task, was gargantuan. Obi-Wan had given her some bacta gel to soothe the sore muscles, but this would simply take time. It would be a day or two before she would be able to move properly. He watched her closely. She’d come through the delivery without a single complication. Each disaster scenario they’d prepared themselves for had been averted. She’d made it, Cody made it. Now the pair just had to recover and the family had to adjust to an additional child. 

Once Gwen made it to the bathroom, Obi-Wan relaxed. Those had been her first steps post-delivery. Bryagwen’s strength, both emotional and physical, never ceased to amaze him. After what he’d witnessed that night, he was certain she wouldn’t be able to move for days, yet she rose and managed to make it to the bathroom completely unaided. 

“Cody, my darling, little love, if you are half the woman your mother is, you will be twice the man I could ever hope to be.” He murmured softly to the child rustling her fingers through his chest hair. The feeling was foreign. She searched for a patch of clear skin, something akin to her mother’s chest she was used to. Obi-Wan shifted her further up his chest along his collarbone where she could rest her head in the crook of his neck. His beard tickled the top of her head, causing the child to cringe away from the foreign feeling before deciding to stretch up and enjoy the scratch against her skin. Obi-Wan chuckled softly, his chest rumbling deeply for Cody to feel. For every worry he’d held previously, he now held none. Cody was here, she was safe, she was beautiful, and she was his hope for a renewed life. 

Bryagwen rejoined them on the bed, grimacing as she moved a little too quickly for her muscles’ liking. With Cody occupying her normal space on Obi-Wan’s chest, she laid at his side. Her face was inches from his. She decided to lay a soft kiss on his lips. He was surprised at the feather-light touch, but fell into her without a second guess. Bryagwen was the love of his life, his other half as destined by the Force, that much he was certain. Holding Cody solidified any doubts he’d ever had about her or their relationship. They were meant to be together, entwined like this for eternity. Their signatures, normally separated as hues of oranges and blues, combined to create one of luscious greens, a true melding of the Force before his eyes. Come what may, he would love her until his dying day. 

The Force was strong in their home that night. From the moment when Cody had summoned its presence, through the delivery, and now while they all slept in the early hours of the morning, the entire family rested peacefully with visions of one another in their minds. 

Obi-Wan saw his family, complete with his wife, two daughters, and son gathered together many years down the road breaking bread over a table in what looked suspiciously like a military base surrounded by faceless troops of all creeds.Next he saw Bryagwen triumphantly brandishing a lightsaber as deeply orange as her signature; the hilt made of pure Beskar. Bryagwen first saw Cody on the arm of a Mandalorian, carrying their odd, green son through her doors to ask for their help in training him. Second she saw Obi-Wan, saber bared and sparring with a teenage Luke. Last she saw Bryshae bearing the bars of a pilot on her lapel, accepting a medal alongside her younger brother and some unknown man and a Wookie. 

Bryshae dreamed silently of her future, though the young child did not realize what she saw. Her brother reunited with his sister by blood; her finding love in the most unlikely of places on a Rebel base before he was stripped away during the Battle of Endor, her watching from her own X-Wing as his was shot from the sky; the image of a Twi’lek woman and a Mandalorian welcoming aboard their crew when the dust settled. Luke saw not vision, but a series of colors and emotion. Tones of red and black clashing against blue and green; anger, hate, pain and acceptance flashed through his mind. And Cody felt love from all corners of her life, but from her parents most of all.

Their future was clear, full of hope and love, of good tidings for their family. The Force lived in their home through them, breathing and existing as one with each individual. Obi-Wan awoke with Bryshae and Luke the next morning to ready their breakfast and introduce them to their newest sibling. He could recall with perfect clarity each vision from the night before over his morning caff. He’d been frightened of what the future held, but knew that while it may hold ups and downs, their future would be, determinedly, good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! 
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this as much as I did writing! My plan right now is to write some sort of epilogue later this week, but I'm currently debating writing an entire fic fleshing out the CodyxDin relationship in Beskar Bracelet, or possibly working something into the Original Trilogy/Rebels timeline with Bryshae. It would give Bryshae and Hera some common ground to work with since it's implied that she joined Hera and Sabine. We know what's up with Luke during that point in time, so I don't really see a point in working with him. 
> 
> Let me know what you think, and who you would rather see worked with! I'm open to whatever at this point, so please let me know!


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